Zadruga

by Margaret Pemberton

  Katerina had opened the mud-marked envelope with trembling fingers. It was dated 17 September and at having confirmation that at least until then, he was alive, Zita felt almost ill with relief.

  My dearest love,

  I hope by now that you are safely in Nish. One of my men is being seconded to Major Zlarin’s forces and I am asking him to deliver this to Zlarin in the hope Zlarin will be able to get it to you, wherever you now are, by a military courier.

  The first days here were the worst. The Austrians stormed across the Drina and succeeded in capturing Shabatz. Fighting was hard and hideous. Everyone realizes now we’re up against a far tougher enemy than the Turk. Austrian artillery has to be the most powerful in the world and our field-guns are petty and ineffectual in comparison. We fought back, however, and by the end of August we had thrown the enemy into complete disorder, shelled them, charged them, and driven them back across the Drina in panic-stricken flight. We shall soon have Allied help and when that arrives the Austrians will be finished.

  And now I come to something of a more personal nature; something which will, I think, surprise you. Max Karageorgevich led the fighting to free Shabatz of its invaders and did so with great astuteness and courage. As a fighter he possesses all the flair and élan that is so unfortunately lacking in his peacetime demeanour. We joined forces in clearing the last of the invader from Serbian soil and it was then he spoke to me of the matter which will, I think, be as much a surprise to you as it was to me. He wishes to marry Katerina.

  Zita had been reading the letter aloud and at this point Katerina gave such a loud cry of disbelief that Zita faltered, looking across at her in dismay.

  ‘He can’t possibly wish to marry me! It’s Max’s sick idea of a joke! What did Papa say to him? He surely didn’t believe Max

  was serious?’

  Zita looked down again at the hastily pencil-written letter.

  Max says it is a matter to which he has given a lot of thought. Apparently he called on Katerina immediately before leaving for the front with the intention of making his feelings clear to her. He says he realized, however, that he should ask my permission before doing so and this, of course, he has now done. They are second cousins, of course, and you know what my feelings were on the subject when it was suggested Natalie might marry Alexander. However, as you can well imagine, I now bitterly regret the stance I took and have no intention of repeating my mistake. Max may be a Karageorgevich but he doesn’t possess the notorious Karageorgevich qualities of hotheaded thoughtless temper, quite the reverse. In the rapidly changing world in which we are now living, I think I would rest easy knowing that Katerina was married within the family, especially to a man of whose lion-hearted courage there cannot be the faintest shadow of doubt. With Natalie now as far away from us as if she were on the moon, a zadruga-style marriage would be a great consolation to me, as I am sure it would be to you. Their children would be Slav, not half English, and would be brought up in what I hope, when this war ends, will be a United Kingdom of all South Slavs. There is no chance of any children Natalie may have, doing so. That being the case, a marriage between Max and Katerina would give me great happiness and would, I am sure, be in Katerina’s best interest.

  To return to the hideous present. It may be there will be no more fighting for a while in the north-west. Rumour has it the remains of the battalions we chased back across the Drina are now on their way to Galicia to take their place in the line against Russia. They’ll have no better luck there. Perhaps by Christmas the war will be over and we will be reunited again. I pray so. All my love, my darling, to both yourself and Katerina. Alexis.

  She lowered the letter to her lap, meeting Katerina’s eyes with reluctance.

  Katerina gave a choked cry of anguish. ‘Not you as well, Mama! You don’t think I should marry Max, do you? Surely you realize it’s an insane idea! Papa was not thinking clearly when he wrote to you. He had just spent weeks fighting the Austrians and naturally he was proud of the way Max conducted himself in battle. Any member of his family would be. I’m proud, but it doesn’t mean I want to marry him, nor does it mean Papa is right in thinking that I should marry him!’

  Zita said slowly, ‘I don’t think it would be wise to come to a hasty decision on this subject, Katerina. Max obviously cares about you a great deal …’

  ‘Max has never given the slightest indication that he cares about me!’ At the prospect of her mother agreeing with her father that Max would make her a suitable husband, panic welled up inside her. ‘I’ve never yet had a pleasant, civil conversation with him! I don’t even feel comfortable with him! How could I possibly marry a man with whom I don’t even feel comfortable?’

  ‘You couldn’t,’ Zita said with regretful practicality. ‘But it is a pity you feel as you do. In many respects a marriage between yourself and Max would be ideal. It would please his grandmother enormously …’

  ‘I’m not marrying in order to please Great-Aunt Eudocia,’ Katerina said, so vastly relieved at her mother agreeing she couldn’t marry a man she didn’t even like that there was a glimmer of amusement in her voice.

  Zita heard it and responded to it. The corners of her mouth quirked in a smile. ‘Not even Papa would want that. We’ll regard the subject as closed for the moment. You haven’t told me yet how the American Red Cross is managing. Is it making life easier for you at the hospital? Is it true that English and Scottish nurses are also in the country, setting up medical units and field hospitals?’

  Katerina nodded, glad to steer the conversation away from the subject of a possible marriage between herself and Max. ‘The Serbian Relief Fund in Britain is funding them. I wonder if Natalie is involved in raising money for them?’

  For a few brief, precious moments they talked of Natalie, both relieved that she was in a place of comparative safety; both wondering if she was homesick; both wondering when they would see her again.

  Such moments, when they were together and when they could talk, were rare. During the last two months the city had been under fire for thirty-six days and thirty-six nights and leisure for gossip was a thing of the past. Because the streets were under almost constant shellfire Katerina rarely came home. Instead she slept at the hospital, as did Helga and Cissie. Major Zlarin was assiduous in offering protection, almost embarrassingly so. No matter how intense the fighting, a soldier was always spared to stand guard at the Vassilovich konak and to offer Zita whatever help she might need in the running of her public shelters and soup kitchen.

  Every few days or so a soldier would also arrive at the hospital in order to speak to Katerina and check on her welfare. Always it was reiterated that Major Zlarin thought it would be wisest if they left the city and that when they decided to do so a military car and driver would be at their disposal to take them to Nish. Always the offer was politely refused.

  On one occasion, Major Zlarin visited Katerina at the hospital. On being told a member of the military was asking for her, Katerina had hurried from her ward, her hair scraped back under her white gauze headdress, her white bibbed apron scattered with bloodstains. She had expected to find a corporal checking on her safety on Major Zlarin’s behalf and was stunned to find herself face to face with the major himself.

  ‘You look tired,’ he said to her abruptly.

  ‘I am tired.’ She had been on duty for sixteen hours and had just assisted at an amputation. Not wanting him to use the fact of her tiredness as an excuse again to suggest it was time she and her mother evacuated to Nish, she said with a dismissive shrug of her shoulders, ‘Everyone is tired. It doesn’t matter. At least we’re being of use.’

  He had taken off his peaked cap in order to talk to her and despite his height she could see that his once gleaming coal-black hair was now thick with shrapnel dust. He, too, looked utterly exhausted.

  She wondered when he had last slept; when he had last enjoyed a warm meal and was mortifyingly aware that he should have been doing so now. Since early morning there had been no bo
mbardment, yet instead of snatching a precious few hours rest he had honoured his promise to her father and had come personally to check up on her safety.

  Aware that she had sounded churlish instead of grateful for this sacrifice of his time, she said amelioratingly, ‘Mama and I are both very appreciative for the protection you have given us. Having a military presence at the house has been a great help to Mama. Without it she thinks things would have got out of hand on a number of occasions.’

  He gave a grunt that could have meant anything and then said, ‘Your mother has been amazingly stubborn in insisting on remaining in the city, however, the time has regrettably come when both she and you are going to have to take my advice and leave for Nish.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry, Major Zlarin. We couldn’t possibly …’

  ‘Austrian forces have re-taken Shabatz,’ he said grimly. ‘Our army is in retreat due to lack of ammunition. They are falling back and it’s my belief that it’s only a matter of time before the order is given to evacuate all military personnel from Belgrade.’

  She felt her face drain of blood. ‘You mean Belgrade will be handed over to the enemy? We will be occupied?’

  ‘If the retreat isn’t halted, those are the orders I think will be given. In such a situation it is unthinkable that you and your mother should remain in the city.’

  She said a little less forcefully, ‘Mama made up her mind long ago that she would stay in Belgrade no matter what happened …’

  He said caustically, ‘With all due respect, your mother can have very little idea of what will happen if enemy troops occupy Belgrade. Women and children will very likely be taken hostage and as members of the ruling house of Karageorgevich both you and your mother will be high on the list of any hostages sought out.’

  The blood had begun to return to her cheeks again and she felt an uncomfortable stirring of embarrassment as the major’s dark eyes relentlessly held hers. Was he intimating that she and her mother would face rape if they stubbornly remained in Belgrade? Not wanting to pursue the subject she said, ‘What is the situation now, on the Sava and Danube?’

  His heavy brows met in a deep frown. ‘All the foundries, bakeries, and all the factories along the riverbanks have been razed to the ground but thanks to the help we’ve been given by the British, the Austrians are no nearer to invading than they were two months ago.’

  ‘The British?’ Katerina’s eyes widened. She had seen no evidence of British troops in the city. ‘They’ve sent men? A battalion?’

  ‘They’ve sent one man and he’s proving to be of more value than any battalion,’ he said with grudging admiration. ‘Thanks to Commander Cardale we have mines and torpedoes and a successful crossing of either the Sava or Danube by Austrian troops is now extremely unlikely.’

  ‘Then that’s good news!’ Her usually gentle smile was devastatingly sunny.

  Their eyes held and in that moment Ivan Zlarin made up his mind that he was going to marry her. The realization put an end to the ease of manner which had been growing between them. She was both a Vassilovich and a Karageorgevich and Alexis Vassilovich no doubt anticipated a much grander match for his eldest daughter than marriage to an army man. He wondered what Alexis’s reaction would be when he asked permission to court her. It didn’t occur to him to wonder what Katerina’s would be. As a mature sophisticated military man of thirty-two, he was accustomed to securing all his objectives. Now he had made up his mind to secure Katerina he anticipated no difficulty he couldn’t overcome.

  ‘Speak to your mother about the likely occupation of the city,’ he said with a return of his usually stiff manner. ‘The sooner you are both in Nish, the better.’

  She nodded, certain she would be wasting her time, anxious to return to the ward where by now she would be being acutely missed.

  ‘I will. Goodbye, Major Zlarin. Good luck.’

  He remained standing, his army hat in the crook of his arm, his brows still pulled together in a frown as he watched her hurry away from him and up the stone stairs towards her ward. Only when the last swish of her skirt was no longer visible did he turn and leave the building.

  At the beginning of November Zita received another letter from

  Alexis. Its tone was far more pessimistic than his first letter had

  been.

  Dearest Love, I hope this scrawl reaches you. As I write we’re under fire and so it’s going to be regrettably short, however, as a messenger is about to leave en route to Major Zlarin I am seizing any chance, however remote, of making contact with you. Things are looking bleak at the moment. Still no reinforcements and now no shells for artillery and no cartridges for rifles. My irregulars have now joined ranks with the First Ban (of Shumadia, Max’s division). When this ghastly war is over I haven’t the slightest doubt that Katerina and he should marry. Try and bring her round to my way of thinking. If she were to agree it would be an enormous worry removed from my mind. My only other worry is you, you and you. The messenger is about to leave and so I must end. Keep safe, keep strong. All my love, my darling. Alexis.

  This time Zita made no comforting comments to Katerina about the marriage being out of the question. Her marriage to Alexis had been arranged by their mutual families and it was one she daily thanked God for. If it was Alexis’s judgement that Katerina would be happy with Max, then it was judgement she trusted.

  Katerina was appalled. It was bad enough that her father was risking his life at the battlefront, without having to live with the knowledge she was going wilfully to disappoint him over something on which he had apparently set his heart.

  At night at the hospital, worn out and weary on her canvas camp bed, she tried to imagine pleasing her father and marrying Max. It was impossible. He was as big as a bear and about as communicative. Why on earth had he taken into his head that he wanted to marry her? Why hadn’t it been Julian who had wanted to marry her?

  At the thought of Julian pain would engulf her, crippling in its intensity. Over the past few months she had tried to school herself not to think of him, but it was impossible. She would stare into the darkness of the dormitory she shared with Cissie and Helga and a dozen other volunteers, tears burning her eyes as she thought of what might have been. Together they would have been happy. Even after all that had happened she hadn’t the slightest doubt of it, it was a certainty that wouldn‘t leave her, a certainty that was a constant torment. As Austrian cannon thundered across the Sava and Danube she would wonder where he was; if he was in France or Belgium; if he was in an infantry or cavalry regiment. Worse, she would wonder if he was wounded. If he was even still alive.

  Ever since the day he had married Natalie she had kept her grief to herself, confiding in no-one. She had become quieter, more introspective, and because of the dreadful circumstances under which they were living the change that had taken place in her had gone unnoticed. Sometimes, as she faced the fact that she would never now have the love she craved, she wondered if it mattered who she married. With unwitting hurt her mother had pointed out to her that as she wasn’t in love elsewhere she could at least consider Max as a suitor.

  ‘Would it matter if I were in love elsewhere?’ she had asked with a flash of rare bitterness.

  Her mother’s eyes had widened in surprise. ‘But of course it would! If you were going to marry suitably elsewhere then Papa wouldn’t be advocating you marry Max. He’s doing so because it is quite obvious that whatever our future after the war, it is going to be far different from anything we have been accustomed to. There are going to be no grand balls thick with eligible young men. If the carnage goes on for much longer there aren’t going to be any young men, eligible or otherwise. Papa wants to secure your future and in every practical way marriage to Max would do so.’

  All through the remainder of November the war news grew worse. The retreat Major Zlarin had spoken of at the beginning of the month had not turned into a rout, but it had insidiously continued. In the face of tremendous odds the army had fallen back and falle
n back again, digging new trenches, fighting hand to hand, praying for the promised reinforcements that still didn’t arrive. The weather was now freezingly cold and heavy rain had turned the battlegrounds into a quagmire. Katerina could hardly bear to think of the conditions under which her father was living, never warm, never completely dry, never satisfyingly fed.

  As the month came to an end the sense of panic grew. There were rumours that the troops were about to evacuate the city, that the railway bridge was about to be blown, that occupation by Austrian forces was imminent.

  When Katerina saw a staff-car scream up to the hospital and Major Zlarin vault from it and sprint inside, she knew the rumours were true.

  Quickly she turned away from the window, running from the ward, running down the stone steps, running towards the terrible news she knew she was going to be given.

  He met her at a turn in the stairs. ‘It’s happened,’ he said abruptly, his face sweat-streaked and exhausted. ‘The army is in full scale retreat from Shabatz. All troops are falling back to Rudnik and the order has been given to abandon Belgrade. In another hour there won’t be a Serbian soldier left in the city. You and your mother are to take my staff-car and go to Nish. I’ve already given the driver his instructions …’

  ‘No.’

  Disbelief flared through his eyes and then such frustrated fury that Katerina flinched as if she had been struck.

  ‘For Christ’s sake!’ he bellowed, abandoning all civility and restraint. ‘Do you want to be raped? Murdered? Dragged off across the Danube as a hostage? You have no choice but to leave for Nish! The miracle will be if you ever reach it!’

  She shook her head, sick with a terror she was determined not to show, knowing that her mother would never leave, knowing that they were going to have to take their chances with the Austrians just as all the other nurses were going to have to.

  ‘No,’ she said again, ‘I’ll never forget your concern, Major Zlarin, and if you asked anything else of me I would comply without hesitation, but …’