The Defender

by Nicholas Kalashnikoff

  “Why?” Tim wanted to know.

  “I can’t say, my boy. Just as a fish seeks deeper water, so a man looks for a place that will be better for him. Only happiness does not lie in changing one place for another, but in belonging to a fine family like yours.”

  Turgen patted Aksa’s head as he spoke.

  “Didn’t you have a family before ?” she questioned.

  When Turgen answered her his face was sober. “Yes, but they went away, leaving me alone.”

  “To what place did they go?” the girl persisted.

  But Turgen could not talk about this. “To the place all people must go. It is too soon for you to understand.”

  Before Aksa could open her mouth for another question, Tim pulled her painfully by her braid, saying, “We are now your family. So Mama said. I will live with you, Turgen, forever.”

  “And so will I!” Aksa hastened to add.

  “Splendid!” Turgen said, the smile coming back to his eyes. “And now that is settled we must get to the end of our journey.”

  Tim, wanting to distract attention from a subject that was plainly not to Turgen’s liking, and also because he was bursting with questions of his own, blurted out: “Is it true what people say, that you are friendly with wild rams?” When Turgen showed no sign of distaste for this subject, he rushed on: “I can hardly believe that rams will let you come close to them. From what I hear, they run faster than the wind and can jump from one mountain to another. It is difficult even to see them. We have never seen them—not Mama nor Aksa nor I. Are they really so smart that they know of danger before it comes near them? People also say—”

  The boy broke off sharply.

  “That I am a sorcerer and bewitched. Is that what people say?” Turgen finished for him. But his expression was kind.

  Tim nodded. “This we don’t believe.”

  “Good. People will always talk a lot of nonsense when they haven’t anything better to do.” Turgen shook his head. “More’s the pity. But since you are interested I will tell you what I know of the rams. What you hear is part true and part exaggeration. Yes, Lad was my friend. I cannot say as much for the old rams who are still fearful because I am a man. And why should they love us who hunt them down?” Turgen hesitated. “Later I will tell you more. And tomorrow, if you should happen to wake up early, and the day is bright, you will be able to see the rams for yourself on top of that cliff over there.” He pointed to the one opposite his yurta.

  Aksa and Tim clapped their hands and whirled with joy. “Will you, Turgen? Oh, will you? We will do anything you say, and get up very early,”

  A sight of the rams was worth any promise.

  CHAPTER 24

  ANYTHING NEW HAS A SPECIAL WONDER. TIM AND Aksa had never been in a yurta like Turgen’s before and they had to explore every nook and corner. The mountains hovering over it were giants standing guard. The tiny window which with difficulty let in light might have belonged to a playhouse they built for their own amusement.

  Listening to them exclaim and argue and laugh, Turgen prepared dinner. Here and there, in and out, the children ran like busy moles. Secretly they hoped for a glimpse of the mountain rams that same night. Yet they were willing to wait, for Turgen had promised. It would be hard to say whether Turgen or his guests were happier.

  Dinner was a feast. There was ukha or fish-soup which they drank out of wooden bowls, there was also fat fish and pheasants roasted on a spit. And to top it all was tea with … sugar! Yes, it was a real feast, something to tell their mother about.

  Yet the children’s real joy that day came not so much from the trip up the mountain and the good food as from the attention Turgen paid them. They were not used to this. Their mother, they knew, loved them, but she was always so busy looking after them that she had little time to play with them. Here was Turgen ready to devote a whole evening and day to them.

  And this was not all. They would hear the story of the rams.

  Their stomachs so full that it seemed they must burst, Tim and Aksa waited while Turgen cleared away the meal. He then went to the door and stood looking out. They understood that he was hoping for a glimpse of his rams.

  “Can’t see a thing,” he said finally, turning back to the room and closing the door against the cold air. “What do you say to some more logs on the fire?”

  The children nodded.

  Soon flames were dancing in the komelek, the room was snug and warm. Turgen lit his pipe and smiled at his guests, well pleased with them and the day. He was content now to sit in silence and enjoy the comfort. But not Aksa.

  “Turgen, is it true that you are old?” she wanted to know. Then, seeing him smile, she hastened to add, “Mama says that only your hair is old—that you are strong and walk the earth as lightly as a mountain ram.”

  Turgen’s face showed his pleasure. “A clever girl,” he thought, and was not surprised by her next question: “You haven’t forgotten your promise to tell us about yourself and the rams?”

  He shook his head. “How could I forget? It is all so close to my heart.”

  With that he began to talk. He started with the time long ago when he had been young and happy, told of his struggles and adventures and marriage. When he came to the death of his wife and son, Aksa and Tim shed tears for him in his loneliness. The next moment they were all smiles again as he described finding the rams who brought new meaning to his life. But most exciting was the account of his remarkable dreams. Here Aksa began to fidget on the bench by the fire and pressed close to Tim, who sat motionless with his mouth open, his unblinking eyes fixed on Turgen.

  To them it was not a dream that Turgen had visited the Great Spirit and later entertained him as a mysterious wanderer. They accepted it all as something which had really happened and their admiration for Turgen was unbounded.

  “As I see it,” Turgen delared in conclusion, “the Great Spirit gave me a love for these rams as a gift for my old age. Then, pleased that I cared for them according to His bidding, He blessed me with a fine family.”

  The children jumped up, ran to Turgen and embraced him. Their eyes were full of love, their heads full of questions.

  “Now, together, we can protect our herd,” Turgen said with satisfaction.

  “But how?” asked Tim.

  “Quite simply,” Turgen replied. “We have a custom which says that only one hunter is permitted in a district. As I live and hunt here, and do not molest the rams, they are safe.”

  “But if you do not come close to them,” Tim persisted, “how can you be sure they are the same rams you knew long ago?”

  Turgen hesitated. “That I can’t know for certain, my boy, but a bird can be followed by its flight, and an animal by its tracks. I saw their tracks more than once. The same family? Maybe. Maybe not. One thing I know well, that rams love to return to their native haunts. Naturally, they avoided me, for how could they know I was their friend? Their life was very difficult.”

  Aksa’s eyes asked a question.

  “Why? Food is scarce and the rams have many enemies: people the most dangerous of all. They can fight a wolf, run away from a bear, but a hunter’s bullet is faster than their legs. So they hide among the mountain cliffs. And what kind of food is there? In summer, a little grass and a few thin shrubs—in winter, nothing but half-frozen twigs and old dry moss. Not very nourishing. It is no wonder the poor creatures die out.”

  Tim, who had been listening intently, now blurted out: “I think they must be stupid to live in such places. All they have to do is come to lower ground where there is plenty of food.”

  “On the contrary,” Turgen told him, “they are smart. Where they live there is sand and gravel and loose stones to warn them of the approach of an enemy. Have you ever tried to walk quietly on gravel? … Well! The rams had their choice—to live in terror of their lives below where there is food, or to go hungry and free. The dead need nothing. They chose to live and be free. In their independence they remind me of my own people— the
Lamuts. We too are dying out, but we are free.”

  “The poor rams,” Aksa commented. “During a snow storm we keep a fire burning day and night, but they have no way to warm themselves.”

  “Yes,” Tim agreed. “And even with fire and food we do not have an easy time of it in winter.”

  Pleased to have aroused the sympathy of his young guests, Turgen replied, “It is impossible not to pity these fine savages. Fortunately, God has provided them with some things to help them in their struggle. They are strong, have great endurance, and towards winter their wool becomes thick and long. Moreover they are intelligent. You see how I built my yurta between cliffs. In winter everything is so covered with snow that there is not a chink for the wind to enter in. And wind is far more dangerous than frost. The rams know this, so they seek for themselves caves in the mountains where they too will be protected from the wind. Their great misfortune is hunger.”

  Tim considered a moment. “Is there no way to help them?”

  “If we would, yes,” Turgen answered. “I have heard that in other countries rare animals are protected by law. It is forbidden to hunt them. But we have no such law, even for animals as rare and harmless as these.”

  “We could tame them and use them,” Tim offered. “One of our neighbors has sheep and I have heard that mountain rams are wild sheep.”

  Turgen shook his head. “So are dogs related to wolves. But there is a proverb: No matter how much you feed a wolf, he will still long for the woods. I have never seen or heard of a tame wolf. Wild rams are not wolves, but it is impossible to tame them.”

  “What about Lad? You tamed him,” Aksa interrupted.

  “That is right. But Lad was very young, and at the time I got him he was helpless. For a time he was satisfied to stay with me, but you should have seen how eagerly he rushed to his father the instant he heard his voice! When I called he turned his head and looked at me. That was all.”

  “Ah, how ungrateful!” Aksa exclaimed.

  “It is not a question of gratitude at all. Imagine that you were lost in the woods and hurt yourself. Someone found you and took care of you. Then suddenly you saw your mother … Wouldn’t you run to her?”

  Aksa’s eyes opened wide. “But Mother and I are people,” she objected.

  “So,” Turgen nodded, smiling. “But animals too have a feeling for their own kind.”

  Tim now came to his sister’s defense. “I think Lad should have stayed with you. Then he would have been warm and well fed.”

  Turgen answered with a question: “Would you leave your mother who is poor to live in the yurta of a rich neighbor ?”

  “Oh, no, no!”

  “I didn’t expect any other answer,” Turgen told the boy. “Our own family always comes first. And sooner or later, looking at the mountains, Lad would have been seized with longing to be there with the other mountain rams. Only by force could I have kept him. Then, maybe, by the second or the third generation …”

  “Why didn’t you?” Tim wanted to know.

  “Keep him by force? No. Better he should live in freedom.” Turgen paused, and added, “Besides, I was afraid.”

  “Afraid!” Aksa exclaimed in disbelief. “What were you afraid of?”

  “The Great Spirit might have been angry,” Turgen explained, “had I not given the lamb back to his family. I feared too that the people from below might come and kill. If they could believe he was a devil in disguise, they could do anything. There in the mountains he is safer. It is where he belongs.”

  Turgen rose. “Now come. It is time to sleep if you want to see my rams in the morning. They come to gather on that near cliff at sunrise.”

  After a day of such excitements, with the hope of more to come, the children had hardly time to cover themselves with blankets and quickly say a prayer than they were asleep. Turgen did not follow them immediately but sat smoking by the fire. His face reflected joy in his new fortune. In his heart too was a prayer.

  “I thank Thee for the gift of this fine family, and for your goodness to my rams who are also dear to me. Teach people to let them live in peace. For nothing is impossible to Thee.”

  CHAPTER 25

  TURGEN WAS WAKENED NEXT MORNING BY THE COLD rushing in through the chimney of the now dead komelek. He jumped out of bed, revived the fire, put water to boil for tea and then stepped out of the yurta.

  Before him were the mountains enveloped in a thick white-gray fog. He peered in the direction of the cliff where he expected the rams, but could see nothing. Anxiously he waited. They must come! The fog must lift! He had promised the children.

  When the rising sun sent its first golden threadlike rays into the sky, slowly, slowly the fog moved up the mountains. Fearing to miss a moment Turgen shouted from the door of the yurta: “Tim! Aksa! Get up! It is time!”

  The children scrambled from their beds and still in their bare feet rushed to join Turgen. With eyes opened wide to miss nothing of the spectacle, they saw for the first time day break over the mountains. It was a dazzling sight. And as the mist gave way before the power of the sun, there were the rams—shadowy silhouettes, then the whole herd seen sharp and clear.

  The leader was standing in front by himself, with the others ranged around him. They were posed as for a show.

  “Look,” Turgen was saying. “There beside the old fellow is my Lad. See, he is looking straight at us. I am certain he has told them about us.”

  “Oh, they are beautiful!” Aksa exclaimed.

  To her, their beauty was enough. But Tim’s thoughts went farther. “I hope they will always come to this mountain,” he said.

  “They will if we care for them and love them,” Turgen assured him.

  The three stood without moving, watching as the leader ram signalled to the herd and led them down the mountain out of sight. Even then they were reluctant to let the moment go. The rams and the mountain against the red-gold sky was something to keep forever.

  Tim broke the silence, and his voice was a little sad: “Eh, Turgen, I do want them to live in health so that we can enjoy them if only from a distance. God save them from hunger and cold and wild beasts and hunters.”

  “So long as I live,” Turgen answered, “they will eat well and be safe from hunters. But what will become of them after I die? This is my worry.”

  Impulsively Tim caught Turgen by the arm. “Then I will feed and protect them. I promise you.”

  “And I, and I, too!” Aksa exclaimed.

  Turgen put his arm around the children. “Wonderful !” he said. “You make me very happy. Feed the rams, love and protect them. The Good Spirit will reward you for it, as He has rewarded me.”

  Indeed, at that moment Turgen felt himself to be the happiest of men.

  CHAPTER 26

  WINGS OF HAPPINESS LIFTED TURGEN’S SPIRIT IN THE days immediately following his understanding with Marfa, until it seemed that the world was a new and more beautiful place. He looked at the sky, the mountains and the forest around him with eyes that appeared to see them for the first time. Even his yurta, so dark and cramped, was larger and brighter, though its solitary window was still covered with snow. In the silence surrounding him he caught sounds of life filled with excitement and promise.

  “Is not all this a dream?” he asked himself. Then his common sense answered: “No, it is not a dream, or there would be fear in my heart that it would vanish. And my heart does not fear.”

  He was very gay as he climbed the mountain to the clearing with food for his rams. The herd kept out of sight, but he felt their presence close by in the shelter of the cliffs.

  “Hey there, my friends,” he shouted, “don’t hide yourselves!” And then, because he had to confide his news to someone: “Life has now turned her face to us and everything is going to be well. We are no longer orphans. I will have a family, and it will be your family, too. Already Tim and Aksa love you. And they have made me a promise. As for their mother! Oh, that is a woman with a heart. The Great Spirit has blessed us in
deed.”

  Turgen delivered his message with full confidence that the rams heard and understood all that he said, and rejoiced in his good fortune. He knew the proverb, “Every man forges his own happiness,” but his case seemed to be an exception. For what had he done, he asked himself, that he should be so blessed? Was it all, perhaps, a sign from the stranger who came to him in his dream?

  For three days his thoughts were rose-colored. But no mood will last forever. Gradually doubts crept back into his mind and by feeding on solitude grew into monsters.

  “What kind of an old fool am I to be thinking of marriage at my age?” they went. “How do I dare take on the responsibility of a family? Not that I am unable to provide for them. But why should innocent people have to share with me the ill-will of the Yakuts in the valley?”

  Marfa was a fine brave woman. She and the children scoffed at the idea that he was a sorcerer. But they didn’t know what it meant to have their neighbors against them.

  What was he to do? How could he explain all this to Marfa and make her understand that his fears were for her and not himself?

  That was the whole problem—to convince Marfa. It would require wisdom. And where was he to find wisdom of the kind needed ? Oh, what a muddle it was, and all because of his pity for the mountain rams. How was it possible that so much evil could come from good?

  While his mind worried itself in this fashion Turgen went about his daily chores hoping that the Great Spirit would grant him still another sign, and save him before the final moment of decision. There was much work to be done. There were the fishing nets in the lake to watch. There was game to be hunted, and snares to be examined from time to time. Also he had promised to sew new moccasin boots for Tim and Aksa. Then on the following Sunday he would return to Marfa’s, when she expected to decide upon the day for the wedding.