Strange Are the Ways

by Strange Are the Ways (retail) (epub)

  ‘The children,’ she said, gambling on that look, ‘I have to get them to safety.’

  ‘You should have thought of that before you started.’ The young voice, speaking from the shadows, was hostile and impatient.

  ‘In God’s name, what’s the woman doing here?’ demanded another. ‘What’s it to do with us?’

  The older man held up a gnarled, tranquil hand. The palm was leather-hard and ingrained with dirt. ‘Wait.’ He lifted his eyes from the children to Anna’s face. ‘I’ve told you. There’s fighting between here and the city. No-one will take you to Helsinki. You were hoping to leave the country from there?’

  She nodded wearily. ‘To go to England. I have an English passport. I’m taking the children –’ She stopped, shaking her head a little.

  ‘Hey, Toivo – if she could get to Helsinki the Swedish Legation might help her,’ a voice called from the back of the room.

  Someone laughed, a small harsh laugh. ‘And if she could transport herself to Rome then no doubt the Pope could be of some assistance,’ a voice said, drily helpful.

  Everyone began speaking at once, a babble of Russian and Finnish.

  ‘For Christ’s sake!’ A tall, dark man with an angry scar on his cheek banged the table. ‘What the hell is this? A kindergarten?’

  The man beside him riposted shortly and presumably sharply to the point in Finnish. There was a muffled explosion of laughter.

  The man called Toivo held up his hand again, spoke quietly. The noise subsided. He turned to Anna, spoke again in Russian. ‘To get you to Helsinki would be very difficult,’ he said. ‘At least for the next few days, until we establish some kind of communication with our friends in the city. I suppose, however, that it might be possible for you to stay here in the village for a few days – I assume you have money for board and lodging?’

  Anna nodded.

  ‘Until things settle a little. You say you have contacts in Helsinki?’

  ‘Yes. The Lavolas. They –’ She stopped. There had been an unmistakable stir of sound in the room at the name. Heads lifted. Eyes sharpened. A dark and stocky young man with a forbidding face stepped suddenly away from the wall and into the harsh circle of light thrown by the hurricane lamp. ‘Lavola?’ he asked, very softly. ‘What do you know of Lavola?’

  She could not for her life tell if the reaction had been friendly or hostile. She hesitated. Then, ‘That’s who I’m looking for,’ she said. ‘Jussi Lavola. And his wife, Katya. She’s my cousin –’

  ‘Your name?’ The sharp words cut across hers.

  Still not knowing if she spoke to friend or foe, she looked at him helplessly. The dark face gave no answers. She held his eyes. ‘Anna de Fontenay,’ she said, firmly. The chance had to be taken. Pressed against her heavy skirts she could sense Stepan’s fear. ’Tasha stood, straight and frail as a flower, grasping her brother’s hand. ‘My mother is sister to Katya’s. My father was Victor Valerievich Shalakov.’

  Subtly his face had changed. There was a moment’s silence. The men looked from one to the other, obviously awaiting the young man’s reaction, still uncertain.

  He stepped forward, hand outstretched. ‘I know of you,’ he said, gruffly. ‘You once looked after a friend of mine. He told me of it. Welcome to Suomi.’

  The relief was enormous. Tiredness overwhelmed her. Her mind groped past the puzzling words to their import. ‘You’ll take us, then? You’ll take us to Helsinki?’

  Kaarlo shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. Jussi and Katya are no longer in Helsinki. They’ve gone north, to join General Mannerheim.’

  * * *

  They sat later about a warm stove in a nearby house. The children had been fussed and fed and tucked together into a huge feather bed by Toivo’s wife, whose spic-and-span home this was.

  Toivo sat now holding his peace and sucking his pipe, listening to Kaarlo as the young man spoke. ‘Jussi was too well-known by then to stay in Helsinki with the Reds coming. He took Katya and the baby and left the city three days ago. They’ll be in Vaasa by now. Jussi’s helping to negotiate with the Germans for the return of the Finnish regiment from Lockstedt.’ He scowled ferociously. The Germans’ continued reluctance to release the Finnish Jaegers to fight for their homeland, as had been promised, was the source of much anger and bitterness in Finland. ‘I and some of the others are going to join them as soon as we can.’

  ‘And Uncle Mischa, Aunt Zhenia? Katya’s parents? Are they with them?’

  He shook his shaggy head. There was a pistol in his belt. His knee-high boots were scuffed and worn. Even in the warmth of the room he had not taken off the filthy sleeveless sheepskin jacket. He looked, Anna thought, disconcertedly, an absolute bandit. ‘They left some months ago. Gone off to America. Katya could have gone too, with the child.’ He shrugged, but his mouth quirked to something close to a grin. ‘She wouldn’t. Threatened Jussi to break his head if he tried to make her.’

  That sounded reassuringly like Katya. Anna smiled. ‘And your friend Heimo? He’s in Vaasa too?’

  A spasm of something too ferocious to be termed mere pain showed for a second upon the usually impassive face. ‘No. Heimo isn’t in Vaasa. Heimo’s dead.’

  ‘Oh!’ Anna saw a sudden, startlingly clear picture of a mild, smiling, intelligent face, heard the light and pleasant voice. ‘Oh, I am so sorry!’

  ‘He was killed in a skirmish just before Christmas.’ Kaarlo’s voice betrayed nothing, but his right hand, resting upon his knee, had knotted to a fist. Anna saw him look at it, saw the strong, stubby fingers uncurl slowly, as if the movement required enormous effort. ‘He told me about you,’ Kaarlo said, abruptly, the tone brusque. ‘Told me how you looked after him.’

  ‘It was nothing.’

  ‘Heimo didn’t think so.’ Kaarlo stood up, went to the stove, lifted the lid and hefted a couple of logs into it. Turned. ‘Neither do I.’

  Toivo shifted a little, took his pipe from his mouth, stared pensively at it. ‘So how do we get the lady and the children out of Finland?’

  In the silence Anna looked from one to the other, waiting. Neither man looked at her.

  ‘Perhaps we could get her into Helsinki,’ Kaarlo said at last, with no great conviction.

  ‘Who would I go to now?’ she asked. ‘If Katya and Jussi are gone?’

  Kaarlo shook his head, gloomily.

  ‘Borge back there mentioned the Swedish Legation.’ Toivo tamped his pipe down thoughtfully. ‘He’s right. They’ve helped many refugees.’

  ‘Why would they help me? Even supposing we could get to them? A Russian, British by marriage, and with a gaggle of children I can’t actually prove I have guardianship over?’ Anna asked, bleakly. The circumstances of her flight with the children had already been explained.

  ‘Mm. The situation is a little irregular, I suppose. And the Swedes, it must be said, can be a bit sticky about such matters.’

  Anna was watching Kaarlo. Kaarlo, studiously, was not watching her.

  ‘Kaarlo?’ she asked.

  He glanced at her. Looked away. Began to shake his head long before she had opened her mouth.

  ‘When you go north to join Jussi and Katya – would you take us with you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Kaarlo, please? We can’t stay here for ever. Won’t you please help us?’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re asking. What you’d be letting yourself in for. It’s two hundred and fifty miles of wild country. We’ll be travelling through –’ He stopped abruptly, his voice drowned by a thunderous knocking on the outer door.

  Toivo rose swiftly to his feet. A wicked-looking blade had appeared in Kaarlo’s hand as if by magic. Anna stood tensely, watching the door. The knocking came again. Toivo’s plump wife appeared in the bedroom doorway, hands clasped anxiously before her. ‘Toivo?’

  He motioned her to silence. Gestured to Kaarlo. Silently Kaarlo moved to the door, stood with his back to the wall beside it, knife at the ready.

  ‘Toivo! Toivo? Open
up! It’s Erik! Toivo – you hear me? Open up!’

  The woman let out a small gasp of relief. ‘Erik, it’s Erik – let him in.’

  Toivo opened the door. A young man stumbled into the room, his face beneath the shaggy fur of his hat ablaze with excitement. ‘Toivo, have you heard? Have you heard the news? God bless him! God bless the man!’

  ‘What man? What news? Erik, are you drunk? What are you talking about?’

  The young man calmed a little, stood breathing heavily, looking from face to face, suddenly savouring the moment.

  Kaarlo stepped back into the middle of the room to join them, gestured with the knife. ‘Well?’

  ‘Last night –’ the shining eyes travelled again from one to the other, rested at last upon the older man. He spoke quietly now, and very clearly ‘– last night Mannerheim and his men disarmed almost every Russian garrison in the south of Ostrobothnia. With hardly the loss of a single life.’

  ‘How?’ It was Kaarlo, sharp and obviously disbelieving. ‘How could he do such a thing? The Jaegers aren’t home yet, Mannerheim has only a handful of troops. The Russian garrisons must number in thousands.’

  He surprised them. Outmanoeuvred them – fooled them completely! He cut the rail and telephone links, isolated the garrisons, gulled the Russians into thinking that each one was under threat from a massive attack. The situation’s confused enough already – half the garrisons don’t know what they’re supposed to be doing – most of them surrendered meekly as lambs. We’ve captured rifles, machine guns, mortars, ammunition – the whole area is in White Finnish hands.’

  ‘And in Carelia?’ Toivo asked quietly.

  ‘They’re fighting. It’s fierce, so they say. Reports are confused.’

  ‘So. It’s begun,’ Kaarlo said. He swung away from them, exultation in his eyes, smacked a fist into his palm. ‘Really begun. At last!’

  Toivo was at the sideboard where stood a bottle and some small glasses. He poured the liquor, handed the glasses around, lifted his own in a toast. ‘To free Suomi.’

  And, ‘To free Suomi!’ roared Kaarlo. In one swift movement he swallowed the drink at one draught and before anyone could guess his intention had flung his glass to smash against the metal stove.

  Fragments flew everywhere.

  ‘Kaarlo!’ shrieked Toivo’s wife, understandably outraged.

  Kaarlo grinned like a wolf.

  ‘Heavens. And here was I,’ Anna said, mildly, ‘under the impression that only the barbarian Russians did that?’

  * * *

  Kaarlo’s eventual agreement to take them north with him was nothing if not reluctant. They were to travel across country, a small band of them, on skis. The addition of a sledge for Anna and the children was a complication he was not happy to contemplate.

  ‘We’ll be no trouble, I promise,’ Anna urged. ‘Please, Kaarlo, we can’t stay here – there’s no knowing what might happen. It’s quiet now, but fighting’s breaking out everywhere – we could find ourselves in the middle of a battlefield. Kaarlo, for the children, please! Just get us to the coast, and we can make arrangements to get across to Sweden. These last few miles, Kaarlo – please help us.’

  Kaarlo scowled. Nikki, leaning against his knee, peered up into his face. ‘I’ll help, Uncle Kaarlo. I’ll carry your knife, if you’d like.’ To Kaarlo’s overt embarrassment but Anna suspected secret pleasure, the child had taken to him, following him about, hanging upon his every word, even imitating, perhaps unconsciously, his pugnacious, rolling gait. The day before Nikki had begged Anna to cut out the arms from his small fur coat. Only the direst of threats had kept the garment whole. ‘I’ll look after Aunt Anna and the others. You won’t have to worry about us.’

  ’Tasha gave a sisterly snort.

  Kaarlo bent and swept the little boy onto his knee; an incongruous sight, Anna thought, but a promising one.

  ‘All right,’ he said, after a moment. ‘Providing the others agree, we’ll take you. We leave as soon as it’s dark tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘Hooray!’ Nikki threw up his arms, putting himself in imminent danger of a tumble. ‘We’re going with Kaarlo! We’re going with Kaarlo! I’m going to kill a Red Guard!’

  Kaarlo swung him, squealing, high in the air, held him suspended. ‘You’re going to do no such thing, sonny. You’re going to obey orders and stay as quiet as a bloody mouse, you hear?’

  Nikki giggled, ‘Yes.’

  Kaarlo thumped him ungently back down on the ground, thrust his dark face close to the boy’s. ‘Yes – what?’

  ‘Yes, sir!’ Nikki said, grinning.

  ‘And what are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to stay as quiet as a bloody mouse, sir!’

  Anna raised exasperated brows.

  Kaarlo threw her his wolfish grin. ‘Tomorrow. Be ready. And don’t make me regret it. Cause any trouble, and we leave you right where you are, there and then.’

  Anna believed him.

  * * *

  They travelled in darkness through a country in which rumour and counter-rumour flew. There was fighting around Kuopio. The northern town of Oulu was in flames. The Reds were pressing on in the east. The Reds were being held in the east. The Jaegers had landed. The Jaegers were still twiddling their thumbs and polishing their empty rifles in Lockstedt. The Bolsheviks in Petrograd were ready to concede terms to the Germans. The Germans were refusing to negotiate. Russian troops were to be withdrawn from Finland. The Bolsheviks were sending reinforcements to their Finnish comrades.

  The small party moved quietly and steadily north-west, through endless and trackless forest, along frozen waterways, over snow-blanketed lakes. The men travelled expertly on skis, Anna drove the children in a small, unsprung wooden sledge pulled by a stocky, rough-coated little pony. It was country that Kaarlo knew well. They slept at isolated farms and hamlets, grateful after a bitter night’s hard travelling for a plate of stew and a place in front of a stove to sleep. Sometimes, in the wilderness of forest and lake, Kaarlo deemed it safe to travel by day, and they made better progress. Any road or railway was approached with caution. Once they stood hidden in the pine-shadows as an armoured division ploughed past them on a main highway. Kaarlo’s jaw was tight as he watched them. Anna found herself praying, with a trace of real urgency, that he would resist the temptation to take on the Russian army with a knife, single-handedly. In a village fifty miles or so north of the important industrial town of Tampere, Kaarlo and his friends met up with another group, partisans, Anna suspected, on some mission of sabotage. Her suspicions were confirmed when Kaarlo announced that they would break their journey here for a couple of days. ‘The horse needs rest, and so do the children.’

  ‘And?’ Anna asked, her voice caustic.

  He shrugged.

  That night Anna and the children watched as their companions strapped on pistols, sheathed knives, pulled on heavy jackets. ‘Where are you going?’ Nikki asked, excitedly. ‘Are you going to kill Bolsheviks?’

  ‘No, little friend.’ One of the men tousled his hair. ‘We’re going to play trains.’

  Anna heard them come back perhaps four hours later, heard the whispers, the quiet laughter, and slept at last. Whatever they had done, they had done safely. The next day they moved on again. At mid-morning they came to a railway line. Anna reined the pony in. Kaarlo took its head, laughing, leading it across the tracks. ‘No need to look for trains, Anna. There aren’t any. Not today.’

  They left the lakeland behind them. Now almost all was forest, mile after endless mile of it. The going was difficult. The children were bored. Anna was exhausted.

  ‘You want to stop?’ Kaarlo asked, maliciously solicitous after she had sworn at the inoffensive and gallant little pony for the third time in half an hour.

  ‘No.’

  He grinned, tucked his head down, ploughed on.

  It snowed. Snowed as if it would never stop. They found refuge in a friendly farmhouse, a farmhouse occupied only by women. Mother and dau
ghters made them welcome. The men-folk were with General Mannerheim – ‘Bless the man’s soul!’ – and at least here there were some reliable tidings. In the west two more towns had surrendered to the Whites, and the supply line to friendly Sweden, so important to the rebels, was secured. The focus of the struggle at the moment appeared to be the town of Vilppula, north of Tampere, where a tiny garrison of Whites was under attack by an overwhelming number of Russians and Red Finns.

  ‘They’ve beaten them off twice,’ the woman said, calmly, ladling out salt fish soup. ‘They’ll come through, you’ll see. The Godless Bolsheviks won’t win here.’

  ‘Tell me,’ Anna asked, later, as she stood by the window with Kaarlo watching the snow that blew in gusts across the small cleared fields of the farm, ‘this war – is it Finn against Russian? Or is it Finn against Finn? Just how strong is your support amongst the population?’

  Kaarlo hunched his shoulders almost to his ears, scowled his familiar scowl. Not to be intimidated, she watched him, waiting for an answer.

  ‘There are Finns, are there not,’ she persisted, ‘who are fighting for the Bolsheviks – fighting to remain with Russia?’

  He turned a suddenly savage face. ‘There are always traitors. There are always crawling, gutless cowards that prefer a known master to the perils of freedom. And, yes, there are Finns who have been as readily gulled by these – Bolsheviks –’ he spat the word in vicious disgust ‘– as have the Russian people.’

  ‘So, it is a civil war?’

  He pushed himself away from the window. ‘It is a war for independence. And we shall win it. Now, get some sleep. We leave tomorrow, snow or no snow.’

  * * *

  Two-thirds of their journey was done, now. Less than a hundred miles lay between them and their destination. Anna had lost count of the days. The children slept, and squabbled, and slept again. The wind bit at her cheeks, her eyes became red-rimmed and sore. The men pushed on for the most part in silence. For the first time they missed the village towards which they were heading and had to spend an uncomfortable night in the open, in a hastily-constructed tent-like cabin made from furs and hurriedly-cut branches. Breakfast that morning was meagre. Anna and the children ate it huddled uncomfortably in the comparative warmth of the tent.