by Smith, Dan
The Red Army would crush them, though. Now it was done with the Whites, it would turn its might on the rebels, and armies like the one we were looking at now would seal the Bolsheviks’ supremacy. The free peasants would be subdued by the conscripted ones, the country would be red in more ways than one, and the men in Moscow would smile and congratulate themselves on a revolution well won.
The division had halted in the valley, but had sent outriders to scout the surrounding area – a pair was heading directly towards Dolinsk, and others were moving east and west, one pair coming right at us. Two men on horseback, Cossacks from the look of them, riding well, as all Cossacks did. They wore thick coats the colour of grain sacks but ingrained with the dirt of war and emblazoned with red stars on the cuffs. Brown boots, winter hats, rifles over their shoulders and sabres at their belts. These were professional soldiers, not conscripts. They would be a deadly opponent, well used to fighting from horseback and not afraid to kill. If they knew I was a deserter, that Tanya and Lyudmila were . . . whatever they were, the Cossacks would not hesitate to execute us.
‘I see them,’ she said before I could speak. ‘What do you want to do? Shoot them?’
‘I’m not so sure that would be a good idea.’
‘You don’t think?’ Her voice was heavy with sarcasm.
‘We should just go,’ Lyudmila said, turning her horse.
‘Go where?’ I asked. ‘We’d never outrun them. Their horses will be fit, maybe fitter than ours, and those men will be good shots.’
‘Not that good,’ Lyudmila argued.
‘Maybe not, but do you really want to take that chance?’
‘What do you suggest, then?’ Tanya asked, fixing me with those cold blue eyes. ‘What’s stopping them from taking us back to the rest of them? Or from just killing us where we are?’
‘I’ll go and talk to them,’ I said.
‘And say what?’
‘Something that will make them leave us alone.’
‘Really? What could you say that—’
‘Can I trust you to look after Anna?’ I really had no other choice, and neither did they. There was no way we could try to run.
‘She’ll be safe with us,’ Lyudmila said, and when she looked at Anna, there was the briefest moment when her sullen mask seemed to slip. Just a flash and then it was gone.
‘I want to come with you,’ Anna said.
‘It’s better if you stay here. They’ll wonder why I have a child with me. It might make them suspicious.’ I was sure I could handle the Cossacks, but not with Anna on my horse – that would raise too many questions and undermine the authority I would have to portray to these men. ‘And if they decide they don’t like me . . .’ I shook my head. ‘It’s better you stay here.’
‘Why don’t we just ride away?’ she said. ‘Kashtan will—’
‘Please, Anna. Just do as I ask.’
She gritted her teeth to show her displeasure, but swung her leg over and slid from Kashtan’s back. ‘I’m scared, Kolya.’
‘So am I,’ I whispered to her, ‘but we need to be strong.’
Anna nodded. ‘Do you promise to come back?’
‘I promise.’ I leaned down and put a hand to her face before looking at Tuzik. ‘You wait here too. Look after Anna.’
Tuzik cocked his head to one side. He knew I was talking to him, but that was all. He couldn’t be told to follow orders.
‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ Tanya asked.
‘You have a better one? Just make sure you keep your hands off your guns.’ I put my own into my belt, within easy reach. ‘Unless . . .’ I shrugged. ‘Well, you know.’
With a creak of saddle leather, I turned Kashtan and set off towards the approaching Cossacks. Tuzik sprang to his feet and followed. ‘Stay here,’ I said, pointing. ‘With Anna.’
To my surprise, the big dog stopped and looked back at Anna. He switched his attention a few times, from her to me, as if deciding whether or not to obey. In the end, he chose not to, and when I nudged Kashtan into a gallop, Tuzik ran after us, body low to the ground, just like a wolf.
The outriders drew pistols as they came closer, slowing their horses so we came together a good two hundred metres from where the women waited. They circled round me once and came to halt so they were on either side of me.
Tuzik stood with his muscles tensed and ready to attack, his fur bristling on his neck. His lip lifted to show his teeth and he let out a long, low growl, stirring the Cossacks’ horses. These men were good riders, almost born in the saddle, but faced with a threatening predator, their horses backed away to a safe distance.
‘Keep your dog under control,’ one of them said, and the way he moved his pistol, I knew what he meant.
‘He won’t do anything unless I tell him.’ It wasn’t true – I had no power over the dog – but though Tuzik’s presence might anger them, it might work in my favour too. He was a distraction, and a vicious dog could be as frightening as a loaded gun.
‘Are you heading for Tambov?’ I asked once they had calmed their animals.
‘Who are you?’ This man had a serious face, with a thick beard and a moustache that was turned up at the corners. He wore a sabre across his belly, clipped to an ammunition belt that circled his waist and held his coat together. He also wore cartridge bandoliers criss-crossed over his chest. His hat was thick and pulled tight on his head.
‘I’ll ask you the same thing,’ I said, turning to look at the second man.
This one had his hat pushed back and was without the array of bullets gleaming on his coat. He had a scraped chin, but his moustache was as impressive as his partner’s. His eyes, though, betrayed his fear. He didn’t take his eyes off Tuzik.
‘Who are you?’ the first man asked again. ‘Let me see your papers.’
‘Papers? You’re asking me for papers? I am Commander Krukov,’ I said, not daring to use my own name in case they had heard of my desertion, ‘operating from the Tambov Cheka.’ I glanced over my shoulder at Tanya and Lyudmila. ‘My comrades and I are working on . . . Chekist business.’ The mere mention of the work registered immediately with the two men. ‘Put your weapons away,’ I said, ‘or I will be speaking to your commander.’ I stared at him hard. ‘I will ask him to turn you men over to me right away.’
The two men shared a hesitant look. They weren’t used to being spoken to in such a way.
‘I—’
‘Let me see your papers,’ I said, ‘so that I know your names. I don’t have time to deal with your counter-revolutionary behaviour right now, but when I am done, I will come back for you. Maybe put you in a room with my dog.’
Both men looked at Tuzik and he, as if playing to his audience, raised his lip and snarled.
‘That won’t be necessary, Comrade Commander,’ said the first man, lowering his pistol. ‘I apologise for the insult. We have to check, you understand. You’re not in uniform, so—’
‘You think we always wear uniform?’
‘I thought—’
‘If we always wore our uniforms, you would always know who we are. Sometimes it is better for us to be . . . unseen.’
‘Yes, Comrade Commander.’
I looked them both up and down, showing my disdain, then I sighed and softened, letting them feel as if they’d had a lucky escape. ‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘It’s been a long day.’ An idea came to me. ‘There are other Chekists operating in this area, men I sent north with prisoners, have you seen them?’
‘No.’ The man shook his head. ‘Do they have dogs like this?’
‘You think there are other dogs like this?’
He shrugged.
‘Where are you men coming from?’ I asked.
He looked back at the army. ‘All over. Most are fresh conscripts, but many have come east from Ukraine, Poland. Some from Riga. They say we’re needed here, some kind of rebellion.’
‘All right. Well . . .’ I glanced down at his pistol. ‘You men need to get on with
your jobs. Your unit is relying on you.’
‘You want us to take you to meet our commander?’
‘I don’t have time for that, and nor do you – you have a job to do.’
‘Yes, Commander.’
The two men even managed a salute, but they didn’t ride away. We were all three heading in the same direction, so they rode either side of me, as an escort. When we came closer, I saw the tension in Tanya and Lyudmila’s faces and in their body language, but when we reached them, the soldiers each raised a hand in salute again and continued past, moving up the incline towards the cluster of trees Lyudmila had wanted to run to.
Anna stood close to Tanya and Lyudmila, but there was something about her demeanour that made her seem apart from them. They were still on horseback, while she stood in the grass, arms folded, awaiting my return. I didn’t think the women were a threat to Anna, but I still hadn’t wanted to leave her alone with them. Only now, though, did I realise how torn I had been – as if something had been taken away from me. Anna and I had not been together long, but our bond was firm and now it felt right to be with her. The strength of my feelings surprised me, and it was a great relief to be reunited with her.
Both women turned as the soldiers passed, watching the Cossacks press on, scouting the area around Dolinsk.
Tuzik had escorted me back too, and while we watched the men riding away, he went to stand close to Anna, almost pushing her over as he leaned against her and allowed her to stroke his head.
‘What did you say to them?’ Tanya eyed me with suspicion as I offered my hand to help Anna.
‘Not much.’
Anna took her place in the saddle in front of me, and Tuzik trotted away into the grass to do whatever it was he did when he was alone. When I looked over at Tanya, I saw she was waiting for an answer.
‘I told them I’m a Chekist commander and that we’re on a covert operation to find counter-revolutionaries.’
‘And they believed you?’ Lyudmila came closer. ‘Why?’
‘Why wouldn’t they? They don’t know anything about me. I could be anyone.’
‘Yes, you could be.’ Lyudmila narrowed her eyes. ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Kolya,’ I said. ‘I already told you that.’
Tanya watched me for a few moments longer as if she was making up her mind about something.
‘I don’t trust you,’ she said.
‘And I don’t trust you,’ I told her, ‘but we’re going in the same direction, looking for the same thing, so I don’t see that we have a choice but to stick together.’
‘We should leave them behind,’ Lyudmila said. ‘We can’t travel with someone we don’t trust.’
‘I’d rather it wasn’t this way, but it is, and we have to make what we can of it.’ I looked at Tanya when I spoke. She seemed to be the leader; she was the one who made the decisions. Lyudmila was sullen and insular, but Tanya’s emotions were more heightened. If they had any information about Koschei, I wanted to know it, and if either of them could be persuaded to impart it, I believed it would be Tanya.
‘We’ll be stronger together. We can watch out for each other.’ And as I spoke my thoughts, so I was persuading myself as much as I was persuading Tanya. ‘We should share what we know about Koschei and find him together. This is not a competition between us.’
‘Tanya.’ Lyudmila lowered her voice in warning when she spoke to her comrade, and a look passed between them that reminded me of the silent exchanges that used to pass between Alek and me; the kind I had seen shared between Anna and Lev.
Tanya studied her partner for a moment, biting the inside of her lower lip with a gesture that made her look human and vulnerable. ‘I don’t know . . .’ she said, but I could see that she had acknowledged the benefits of us staying together.
‘Give us one reason why we should trust you,’ Lyudmila challenged me. ‘One.’
‘I’m just asking you to try. You have to see the advantages.’
‘And the disadvantages,’ Lyudmila added. ‘Like waiting for your bullet in my back.’
‘Riding ahead of me wouldn’t prevent that.’
‘Or we could kill you right now.’ Lyudmila started to raise her rifle.
‘Lyudmila!’ her comrade snapped at her, making her jolt in the saddle and turn to look at Tanya.
Tanya inclined her head towards Anna.
Lyudmila lowered her weapon. ‘The girl would be safer with us,’ she muttered.
‘If you were going to kill me, you would have done it in Belev,’ I said. ‘So I’ll give you the same reasons I gave you then. Do it for my family. For my wife, Marianna. For my sons, Misha and Pavel.’ I spoke their names clearly so they would remember them. So they would see me as a father and not just a soldier. ‘And do it for Anna,’ I said.
Lyudmila sighed and looked away.
‘All right,’ Tanya said. ‘For Anna. But I still don’t trust you. And this is only for now.’
‘Then “for now” it is,’ I replied.
27
We left the army behind us as they forged on to Dolinsk and we moved in the opposite direction.
‘Did they say where they were going?’ Tanya asked.
I looked back, but there was nothing behind us except the hoarfrost and the bruised sky streaked with wisps of the palest cloud. ‘Tambov. With the Whites gone, that’s their priority now.’
‘The Whites are gone?’ Tanya asked. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Pushed all the way down to Crimea,’ I said, ‘and across the sea. A man on a train told me.’
‘A train?’ Lyudmila asked. ‘What train?’
‘It’s a long story.’ I didn’t have the inclination to tell them anything. I didn’t mind the company – Alek used to say that a journey of a hundred miles was just a few steps with good company – but they wanted me to think they were holding back from me, so I intended to do the same.
‘And where did the rest of your party come from?’ Tanya looked at Anna.
When I had ridden away to speak to the Cossacks, Anna had kept her distance from Tanya and Lyudmila. I thought she might have taken to them, that, as women, she would have found them more sympathetic or more attractive somehow. I had expected her to want to be with them rather than with me, but that wasn’t the case. She had refused to join Tanya on her horse and had barely spoken to her when I wasn’t there.
‘That’s also a long story,’ I said. There was no good reason to make Anna relive what had happened to her. Tanya didn’t need to know, and she seemed to accept that. She nodded with a slow and thoughtful movement as she watched Anna, and there was a look in her face that I understood. She had children in her life too. Whether or not they were her own I didn’t know, and whether they were alive or dead I couldn’t tell, but the expression was soft and wistful, and there was sadness in her eyes. Wherever they were she missed them.
We covered some of the distance on foot, leading the animals and stopping from time to time to rest them, but other than that, we kept moving. The steppe was expansive, and none of us liked the exposure of being in the open, so we found protection in small wooded areas whenever we could.
In one such area, where we had stopped to rest and eat, I left Anna sitting with Tuzik and went to speak with Tanya, who was leaning against a tree, surveying the steppe. As before, Anna was reluctant to let me leave her side, and both she and Tuzik had tried to follow, but I told her to stay, pointing to Tanya just a few paces away and reassuring her I wouldn’t go any further.
When I was standing beside Tanya, I looked back and raised a hand to Anna. She raised hers in return, but remained sitting upright and unable to relax. I noticed that Tuzik was now between her and Lyudmila, providing a protective barrier. Whether that had been his idea or hers I could only guess.
‘We don’t have to do this, you know,’ I said to her.
‘Do what?’
‘Treat each other with suspicion. Be enemies. We’re all after the same thing.’
‘Are we?’
‘As far as I can tell.’
‘Except you’re Red. I can smell it.’
‘This has gone beyond colours and . . . ideology. This is about family.’ Commander Orlov had been right about that. He had known what was important.
‘Family.’ Tanya echoed the word and looked at me. She dragged on one of her self-rolled cigarettes and let the smoke drift from her lips.
‘Her mother died from typhus,’ I said, inclining my head towards Anna but keeping my voice low. ‘Years ago. And her father died . . .’ I had to think about it; the days had blurred into one. ‘Yesterday. He died yesterday.’ An image of Lev’s broken body came to mind. ‘I told her I’d look after her now. And the dog . . . well, he just came along. Maybe he was looking for a new family.’
Tanya said nothing. She took another drag on her cigarette and contemplated the glowing tip before holding it out to me. I kept my eyes on hers as I accepted it and took a long pull on it, the smoke sharp on my throat, tight in my lungs.
‘Thank you,’ I said.
Standing there, at the edge of the grove, I decided to tell Tanya what she needed to know. If we were going to travel together, the knowledge could prove to be important, and it made sense for us to try to get along, so I gave her the information as both a safeguard and a peace offering. Much like Lev had offered his olive branch of help.
I kept some secrets for myself, but recounted what I had seen in Belev and what had happened at the farm when I met Lev and Anna. I told her about the seven riders, about the bodies we had found on the way to Dolinsk and what Commander Orlov had told me about Krukov and about the prisoners.
As I spoke, Tanya stared into the distance as if she wasn’t listening, and I watched her face for any sign of what she was thinking. She remained composed, blank, questioning nothing, but when I mentioned prisoners, I saw something change in her demeanour. A strained expression as if something had caused her pain, then she looked up and tears glistened in her eyes. She sniffed hard and turned her face so that I could no longer see her.
When I finished speaking, Tanya was silent for a long while before she looked at me.