by Smith, Dan
Kashtan moved on at a steady pace for another hour, and apart from the occasional fresh, clear print in the frozen mud, we had the road to ourselves. Anna and I hardly said a word to one another – both of us were consumed by our own thoughts – and we travelled in silence but for the thump of Kashtan’s hooves, the regular rhythm of her breath and the creak and clink of tack.
There was almost no distinction in the landscape of this part of the steppe. The road ahead and behind were the same. The land to either side of us was untouched grass with the occasional field in the distance to east or west, but nothing distinct, and for a long time, the horizon remained unchanged. We saw one other farm, at least a kilometre east of the track, and with the lenses, I watched a single farmer working in the field.
‘Are you going to go closer?’ There was tension in Anna’s voice.
‘No.’ I was convinced I was heading in the right direction and was sure I would learn more when we reached Dolinsk, so we continued until we reached the top of a rise that looked down at the steppe before us. From here, there was an unbroken sea of frost, with only a hint of forest on the horizon. The road snaked away to our right, cutting down the slope and disappearing in the whitened grass.
‘Is that where we’re going?’ Anna asked.
‘Dolinsk,’ I said.
In the middle distance, perhaps eight or ten kilometres away, the town settled in the bowl of the shallow valley. Larger than Belev, Dolinsk had grown in a different way. In the centre of the town stood the traditional izbas, but they were surrounded by other buildings built from stone and, at the far edge, the blue dome of a modest church.
Remaining in the saddle, I pulled the heavy binoculars from my saddlebag and scanned the steppe beyond. In the magnification, I spotted two dark smudges on the road, moving away from me, directly towards Dolinsk.
‘That’s them,’ I said under my breath.
‘Who?’
‘The people I told you about – Tanya and Lyudmila.’
‘Can I see?’
I put the strap over her neck and let her take the binoculars.
‘How can you tell it’s them? It just looks like dots to me. Or lines.’
‘It’s them,’ I said. ‘I’m sure of it.’
‘What if you’re wrong, though? What if it’s someone else? Koschei . . .’
‘If it was him, there would be more of them. No, I’m sure it’s Tanya.’ It had to be them.
‘What’s she like?’ Anna asked.
‘Who?’
‘Tanya.’
‘I don’t really know.’ I took the binoculars and watched the two figures for a while, seeing their steady progress, then swung them across to study the steppe on either side of them. Over to the right, there was a shine in the grass and thistles; a trail of bent and broken stems suggesting a larger number of horses had passed either up or down the rise, but without being close enough to see which way the stalks were lying, it was impossible to know which. I wondered if it could be the remnants of Koschei’s progress, or something else, but it had been at least a few days ago, judging by the way the grass had started to spring back.
‘Do they know where Koschei is?’ She couldn’t speak his name without a slight tremble in her voice.
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
‘So are we going after them?’
‘Not yet.’ I rummaged in one of the saddlebags behind me, taking out a piece of salo I’d found in Belev. The thin layer of fat coating the smoked ham had started to yellow and it didn’t smell fresh. It would be better than a lot of the things I’d eaten on my journey to Belev, but it would be nothing compared to the meal I had eaten with Lev and Anna. I cut a corner from it and handed it to Anna. ‘You haven’t eaten since . . . Take it. You need to keep well.’
She looked at it, shaking her head, but took it between finger and thumb as if it might be dangerous.
‘Eat.’
She nibbled the tiniest piece and chewed it slowly. I smiled at her and took another bite as I glanced back at the horizon behind us. We had been lucky so far, but I didn’t know how long it would last. The men following me were well trained, battle-hardened and driven. They would push on as much as they could, and I found myself touching the chotki once more, hoping, praying that our tricks to cover our progress had worked.
Kashtan moved off the road as we ate, finding a patch of good grass and lowering her head to graze. The movement tugged the reins, pulling at my arm, but she had done enough to earn it. She had worked hard and the least I could do was allow her to eat. It would keep up her strength.
‘Tuzik’s coming,’ Anna said.
He was trotting along the road, nose to the ground, swerving from side to side as he took the multitude of scents from the dirt.
‘He must like us.’
‘Maybe,’ I said, taking a sip from my canteen. The water was icy cold and washed away the greasy taste of the salo, but it made me think of the woman in the barrel.
‘Why else would he follow us?’
I gave the canteen to her, glad she hadn’t seen that horrible whiteness beneath the water. ‘Maybe he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.’
Anna wiped the mouth of it with her gloved palm. ‘He could have stayed at the train. There were people there.’ She tipped back her head and took a sip.
‘True.’
‘So I think it’s because he likes us. Likes you.’
‘Me?’
‘He can see that you’re nice.’
‘Come on,’ I said, replacing the cap. ‘Let’s get moving.’
We followed the women’s tracks, always looking, always aware. I stopped from time to time to scan the surroundings with the binoculars, but never for long. There was a constant fear of danger here, just as there had been in the forest, but this was different. In there, it was the imaginary that played on my mind. It was the shadows and the creak of the trees in the wind. It was the dark fingers of the forest that inspired a more primeval fear. Out here on the steppe, it was the sharpshooter’s bullet that concerned me, the scouts of an approaching unit, and I was growing more and more conscious of the riders who might be following. While I was pleased to have caught up with Tanya and Lyudmila, and hoped they might have more information about the man we were following, I was concerned that the devils on our heels may catch up too.
The women had reached the part of the steppe that levelled out towards Dolinsk and they had split up, moving in opposite directions to investigate the outskirts of the town before they went in. There was a chance that Koschei was still there, or perhaps some other army had garrisoned the town for its own purposes, although there was no immediate evidence of that.
Spying the women in the distance, I watched them trot away from each other and approach the town. They looked as if they knew what they were doing and I was reminded of how well they worked together. If I had been down there with my brother, we might have used the same tactic to approach Dolinsk.
I moved the binoculars up to study the town. We were closer now, everything was clearer in the lenses, and the buildings were better magnified. The stone homes at the edge closest to me were sturdy and standing intact, but some of them were in ruins, perhaps struck by stray artillery fire as if the town had been caught in the crossfire between two forces. There were wooden izbas that were little more than blackened piles of charred logs.
‘Looks like they had some bad luck,’ I said.
‘Was it Koschei?’ Anna asked. ‘Has he been here?’
‘He’s not responsible for all the bad in the world.’
‘But those farms . . .’
‘This looks different . . . bigger. I think there were a lot of men here. Some kind of battle, but it must have happened a while ago, judging by the way it’s been cleared up.’
Anna tensed in front of me and sat up straight in the saddle. ‘There’s something there.’ She raised a hand and pointed into the distance. ‘Further away.’
Kashtan snorted and shifted beneath me again, e
ager to move on, but I held her steady.
‘Where?’ I narrowed my eyes.
‘There.’ Anna gestured with her small, gloved hand, stretching her arm further as if it might help. ‘Something in the distance. Behind the town.’
‘You have good eyes,’ I said, raising the binoculars to look at the horizon. ‘Is that . . . ?’
Beyond Dolinsk, the steppe stretched into the distance, the expanse of frosted fields broken by solitary trees standing guard, and at the limit of my vision, where the fields met the pale winter sky, there was movement on the horizon. Dark, indistinct patches coming into view.
I focused on Tanya and Lyudmila once again, judging their distance from Dolinsk. They were almost there, coming back towards each other as if they had decided the town was safe, riding side by side as they made their final approach. They wouldn’t be able to see beyond the roofs now. They had no idea that something was coming.
Looking back at the horizon, it was difficult to know for sure what I was looking at, but I could make a good guess. It was shadowy and ill defined, but it was growing, lengthening like a snake uncoiling itself from an unseen lair beyond the horizon.
‘That looks like a column to me,’ I said. ‘What do you think? You’re the one with the good eyes.’ I held the binoculars in front of Anna and let her take them.
‘Soldiers?’ she asked. ‘Looks like . . . lots of soldiers.’
Kashtan took a step forward, her ears turning, listening.
‘Soldiers,’ I agreed, taking the binoculars.
I estimated the column might be ten kilometres away, but it was difficult to be sure. They weren’t moving quickly, but they were fast enough for me to see the line growing as it marched down into the bowl of the steppe, straight towards Dolinsk. Longer and longer it grew, wider and wider.
‘There’s a lot of them,’ I whispered. ‘A small army.’ If they rode into Dolinsk, they would run straight into Tanya and Lyudmila. ‘I wonder what colour they are.’
‘Does it matter?’ Anna asked.
I packed the binoculars back into the saddlebag. ‘You ready to hold on to your cap, Anna?’
She reached up and tugged it down hard.
‘How about you, Tuzik?’ He was lying in the grass with his chin between his paws. ‘You ready for a good run?’
‘Are we going to go fast?’ Anna looked back at me.
‘Yes, we are. Hold tight.’
I spurred Kashtan into a trot and then pushed her into a gallop. She didn’t need too much encouragement, and she was surefooted as she thundered through the grass, hooves pounding the frozen dirt.
I leaned forward and kept low, holding tight to the reins and pressing Anna lower to Kashtan’s neck. I had to get to Tanya. She and Lyudmila would not have seen the army; they would enter Dolinsk thinking it safe. Perhaps even the people of Dolinsk, as many or few as they were, would not spot the advancing soldiers until it was too late for them to do anything. There was a chance the army meant them no harm, but it was unlikely that such a large body of fighters would pass the town without stopping to strip it clean of food and provisions.
There was little I could do for the town or its inhabitants other than warn them, but I had to get Tanya and Lyudmila away. They might have information I needed.
I urged Kashtan faster, feeling the cold air biting at my face and the tears streaming from the corners of my eyes. My kit rattled and jangled, Kashtan’s breathing resounded about me, and I felt every step she took. At first, Tuzik kept up, his long legs a black blur, but he tired quickly at that pace and soon fell behind.
‘Come on, girl,’ I shouted as we raced down into the bottom of the steppe, squinting to see the dark shapes ahead that were Tanya and Lyudmila.
Kashtan gave everything she had. She was sweating hard despite the cold, her breath steaming.
By the time Tanya and Lyudmila were out of sight among the houses, Kashtan began to slow. She had done everything she could, so I let her drop to a walking pace. We had gained good ground, though, and as we reached the bottom of the valley, the houses and buildings of Dolinsk grew in front of us, stretching outwards to replace the steppe beyond. Those solitary trees and the approaching soldiers were now obscured, and all that was visible were the stone houses, the izbas and the pale blue church dome at the far end of town.
I reached back and fumbled a rag from my kit, passing it to Anna, saying, ‘Dry her neck. It’s freezing out here.’
Anna was used to horses. She wiped the sweat from Kashtan’s coat without complaint as we pressed on, and I saw the care she took with it, rubbing the cloth along the horse’s neck, careful to move with direction of her coat.
We had reached the outskirts of Dolinsk by the time she had finished and I put the rag away, telling Anna to take the reins for a moment. She barely had to do anything – Kashtan was following the road – but Anna was confident to do as I asked, keeping us moving towards the town. I took off my gloves and dug the revolver from my pocket. I held it behind Anna’s back, pointing out into the fields as I opened the cylinder and checked the load. The rifle would have been better – it had a shortened barrel that made it good for use from horseback – but I had given it to Lev and now it was in the hands of the men who had caught him.
‘Are we in danger?’ Anna asked when she realised what I was doing.
‘I just want to be ready,’ I told her. I didn’t know who was in the town, who might have seen us approaching.
Satisfied the revolver was in good working condition, I tucked it into my belt, keeping it close to hand, and stuffed my gloves into my pocket. It wasn’t so cold yet that it would freeze my fingers, and gloved hands would be a hindrance if I needed to use the weapon.
Reaching the edge of town, I took the reins back from Anna and dismounted. ‘We’ll walk from here.’
Had I been alone, I would have ridden through Dolinsk. Kashtan would have given me an advantage of height and speed if ambushed, but Anna’s presence made things more complicated. If we remained on horseback, Anna in front, she would bear the brunt of any attack from ahead, and if we changed positions, she would be in the line of fire from behind. I considered leaving her on the outskirts, but didn’t want her to be alone and knew she would object.
‘Stay between me and Kashtan,’ I said, as I tugged the revolver from my belt. ‘Do whatever I tell you.’
25
It was almost impossible to follow Tanya’s route. Among the houses, the ground was clear of grass, packed hard and ripe for hoof prints, but there were many here already. The paths were a mosaic of prints, and though some looked fresher than others, there was no way of knowing which belonged to Tanya and Lyudmila. Their prints were lost in the throng, just as mine would be, making it more difficult for our pursuers. I had been to Dolinsk before, though, and knew the centre of the town, so that’s where I headed, thinking that Tanya would do the same thing. If she was looking for information about the man we were trying to find, the centre of the town would be the most obvious place to gather it.
The silence in Dolinsk was unnatural and troubling. The thump of Kashtan’s hooves echoed from the stone houses around us. The closeness of the buildings amplified the heavy sound of her breathing, and I watched her ears turning as she listened to her surroundings. Now I had the added benefit of Tuzik’s ears too. He had caught up with us once more and trotted ahead as if scouting the area for us.
There was a temptation to move at speed through the town, but it would be dangerous to barrel round tight corners without knowing what lay unseen beyond. Towns like Dolinsk were perfect for ambush and nightmarish to fight in. Since the uprising in Tambov last August, more and more peasants had been joining the fight. Some took up arms and fought with the peasant armies, while others remained in their hometowns and villages, waiting for units to come their way. Nowhere was free of danger and it was better to be cautious.
As we pressed on through the quiet street, I came to the older part of town where the wooden izbas were laid out in
much the same way as they were in Belev, except here some of them were blackened ruins. There was no smoke, no smouldering, so it must have happened at least a few days ago, but there was a thick smell of burning in the air. Kashtan snorted and turned her ears, and I felt her reluctance to keep going. She sensed the death here as she had done in Belev.
‘It’s all right,’ I whispered to her. ‘Just keep listening.’
Some of the izbas still standing had curtains pulled across their windows, but from others faces watched without speaking. Frightened eyes followed our progress through the homes and I began to suspect that Dolinsk had already been subdued. The town was so silent and still I could hear the wind that dropped from the steppe and whistled through the paths between the houses.
Coming closer to the centre of the town, a door opened to our left and I turned, raising my revolver and aiming at the old man who stepped out.
‘We have nothing,’ he called out to me. ‘Leave us.’
A poor man, dressed in a worn jacket and threadbare trousers. He was the first civilian I had encountered since I’d met Lev and Anna. Seeing that he was unarmed, I was tempted to lower my revolver, but it could be a distraction to catch me off guard. I glanced about, looking for any sign of a rifle barrel protruding from a window, but saw nothing.
I moved so I was standing in front of Anna, almost pushing her back against Kashtan. ‘Did someone pass by here a short while ago?’ I asked.
He looked at the revolver in my hand, then leaned to one side to see Anna.
‘Have you seen anyone?’
He studied Anna, then shifted his eyes to my face. ‘Two riders,’ he said. ‘Women.’
‘Did they say anything to you?’
‘They were looking for someone,’ he said.
‘What did you tell them?’
He looked at Anna once more, but something distracted him and he backed away from the door. I didn’t take my eyes off him, but as soon as the black shape moved into my peripheral vision, I knew what had scared him.
Tuzik came close to the side of the road, just a few paces from the man’s home, and settled on his haunches, staring.