Red Winter

10

Passing from the gloom into the dull evening light after hours in the forest was like emerging from the underworld. Leaving that darkness was a blessing and the relief was tangible. The air tasted fresher, the expansive sky spread above, and the steppe stretched out before me, a vast sea of frosted grass and thistle and dandelion, scattered with lonely islands of hawthorn and oak. There was cover to be found among the trees behind me, but right now it felt safer to be in the open. In there, anyone following was invisible, and there was a constant sensation of being watched, of being pursued. On the steppe, nothing could hide.

Out here, I could kill my enemies; in there, they were just wisps of imagination.

I estimated there was still an hour or so of daylight left, so we pressed on.

I led Kashtan across the steppe, moving north towards a cluster of trees and elderberry shrubs, and we walked for half an hour before the distant copse began to take shape. A small collection of barren oak and maple, their naked branches laden with the dark and tangled balls of crows’ nests. Seeing the first sign of a rooftop just to the east of them, I stopped and took the binoculars from my saddlebag.

‘Let’s see what we have,’ I spoke aloud, as I put the cold lenses to my eyes and scanned west to east.

The isolated farm was still too far away to see much, but there were at least two buildings: a small, one-roomed farmhouse, not much more than a hovel, and what looked like a barn. In front of them, a field with the late crop rows of alternating green and brown.

‘There might be tools,’ I said to Kashtan. ‘A new shoe. Somewhere for you to rest. We’ll have to get closer.’ I lowered the binoculars and narrowed my eyes against the cold. ‘See if anyone’s there.’

It was a risk to venture close to anywhere occupied. There was no certainty of finding sympathy from anyone. If the farm was occupied, we were as likely to be run off by angry, frightened peasants as we were to be welcomed, but we had no choice. Kashtan needed help. We both needed to rest.

We carried on as the light faded and the temperature dropped. As night approached, so the wind picked up, moaning as it wheeled across the steppe, a lilting tone, deep and mournful.

I wrapped my scarf tight and walked with my head down to cut through it, stopping from time to time to watch the farm.

Coming closer, I saw the smoke from one of the buildings, caught in the wind and almost horizontal as it streamed from the chimney, but there was no other sign the place was occupied. No horses, no activity, and we continued until I could smell the faint odour of burning wood in the breeze.

The wind was a constant nuisance, as if its intention was to hinder us, and the long, frosty grass was difficult to tread, so our progress was slow, and the closer we came to the farm, the more eager I was to find a warm welcome. But as we reached the edge of the field, scattering a flock of scavenging crows into the air with a raucous cry, I stopped and checked my revolver. I tested the action on my rifle and unfastened two coat buttons so I would be able to slip my hand inside and reach for the knife on my belt if necessary.

If the reception we received was hostile, I was more than ready to meet it.

When I was satisfied my weapons were good, I raised the binoculars to scan the buildings once more, this time seeing a single figure emerge from the house.

The man crossed the yard towards the barn and was almost there when the door to the farmhouse opened again and a second figure, a child, came running out to join him. The child was followed by a dog, which stopped on the threshold and looked towards me. Black-haired and long-legged, it looked almost like a wolf, and when the man turned to look at the boy, he noticed the dog, then followed the direction of its attention, catching sight of Kashtan and me on the other side of the field. He froze for a second before reaching out and pulling the boy close. I held the two of them in the magnified lenses of the binoculars and studied them, wishing I could see them better.

They looked to be peasants, farmers, not soldiers, but it was impossible to be sure. Without my rifle and my pistol, my own clothes would belie what I really was, just as theirs might be doing right now. Regardless of that, they had seen us and I had a decision to make. The man could be unfriendly, and he and the boy might not be alone.

I lowered the binoculars and looked at Kashtan’s foot. ‘Or maybe he can help,’ I said, and knew I had to go on. I would deal with whatever situation presented itself.

If I had to kill them, that’s what I would do.

At the farm, the dog had left the threshold and run across the yard. It didn’t bark and circle its tail as a dog would usually do, but stood still and watched us as the man and the boy returned to the house, disappearing inside and closing the door.

I strained my eyes to see them as we walked, and when we came to the edge of the field, I took off my gloves to free my hands for swift action. I inspected the farm once more with the lenses, then forged on, hoping for the best but prepared for the worst.

The crows alighted in the field behind us as I led Kashtan towards the buildings that nestled by the desolate trees, picking our way along the furrows between the rows of turnips that grew as large as two of my fists, the swollen white roots bulging from the soil.

The dog continued to watch and I could feel Kashtan’s nervousness, but the beast didn’t venture beyond the yard, and I spoke encouraging words into Kashtan’s ear.

We slowed down as we came closer, and the man emerged from the house to stand in the same place as before, at the front of his yard, just behind a fence that I hadn’t seen from further away. He was like a statue, feet apart and holding a weapon in both hands. The dog came to sit close to him, but not right beside him. It was as if they were not together. Neither master and dog nor friends, but separate.

When we arrived at the fence, the dog stood, and although there was no overt display of aggression, it was alert to danger, its ears pricked and its body tensed. Close to, it still looked wolf-like with its long legs and large paws. It had a narrow snout, and the fur was thick round its neck, but it was not as black as it had seemed from a distance. There were flecks of brindle in its coat and the first hint of grey around its muzzle. There was a promise of wildness about the animal and its presence made Kashtan uneasy.

The man shifted the shotgun but didn’t pull it to his shoulder in a show of hostility. Instead he held it at waist height in front of him, the barrel pointing just to one side of us. He was scared and he wanted me to think him dangerous, but at the same time, he didn’t want to provoke a fight.

‘Good evening,’ I said, glancing at the weapon, then studying the man’s eyes instead.

They were hazelnut brown, pale and watery from the cold. Narrowed in suspicion but nervous, as if he wasn’t sure whether to look me in the eye or watch my hands. His features were soft, not the rugged complexion of a farmer who had seen many harvests, but I guessed he was similar in age to me, no more than late thirties. He wore a cap and was bearded like a Cossack, the hair wild about his chin and neck, black as the devil but gunpowder grey around the edges. His coat was knee length, belted at the waist, dirty and flecked with pieces of straw. His boots were in poor shape, repaired and patched and bound to his feet with twine.

‘Is this your place?’ I asked, glancing at the dog.

He nodded once and I wondered how he must see me, a stranger riding out of the steppe, no uniform, no insignia, but armed and leading a horse. I must have looked as wild to him as he did to me. I was dirty from days of living rough, and the last shave I’d had was from a company barber. Now my beard was thickening and growing untidy.

‘Good crop,’ I said, making conversation, settling him. ‘Must have been ready to harvest a few weeks ago.’

‘Your horse?’ He looked at Kashtan.

I nodded.

‘Did you steal her?’

I shrugged. ‘It’s quiet here. It must get lonely.’

He reaffirmed his grip on the shotgun and hefted it as if it were growing heavier. ‘Are you asking if I’m alone or if I’ve seen anyone passing?’

I shrugged again. ‘Both. Who’s the boy?’

‘No one.’ The man shifted his feet and tilted his chin at Kashtan. ‘What happened to her foot?’

‘She threw a shoe and chipped her hoof.’ I glanced across at the barn. ‘You have tools I can use?’

‘You know how?’

‘I know a bit,’ I said. ‘Do you?’

He followed my gaze and lowered the shotgun a little. ‘Maybe.’

I had the impression that he didn’t intend to use the weapon unless he felt I was a threat. His intention was only a protective one. His land. His boy. Perhaps a wife hiding in fear in the warmth of the farmhouse. He was a danger to me if he thought I aimed to harm them, and my instinct was to eliminate that threat right away, but I thought about Marianna and the boys, how they must have felt when Koschei came, and I felt sympathy for this man. He was only doing his duty to those he loved, and I was in a far better position to understand that now. In the past, I had overlooked the humanity of that, seeing only revolutionaries and counter-revolutionaries. I had been so deep in the war, I had closed my eyes to anything else, and it had taken something wicked to prise them open and make me see more clearly.

‘I don’t want any trouble,’ I said, holding out my hands. ‘I only want to fix my horse and be on my way. I’m not here for your animals or anything else you might have in there.’

‘What else would I have in here?’

‘I saw the boy. I know he’s in the house.’

The shotgun barrel rose a touch as the man’s fingers tightened. ‘You stay away from—’

‘I have sons,’ I said. ‘Children of my own. I don’t mean any harm, I swear it.’

The man thought about that, watching my eyes for any sign of deceit. He said nothing for a long while, then breathed in and relaxed a little. ‘You’ve done a good job on that foot,’ he said. ‘Good binding.’

The dog sat now, but its attention was still on us.

‘It’s not enough,’ I said. ‘I have a long way to go.’

‘How far?’

I shook my head and something like a smile appeared on his lips.

‘It’s like a game,’ he said. ‘Answer a question with a question. Don’t give anything away. What happened to the days when one man could pass the time of day with another without the threat of… ?’ He tipped his head at the rifle, hanging muzzle down over my shoulder.

‘I mean you no harm,’ I told him.

‘Nor I you.’

‘And yet here we are,’ I said, ‘at an impasse. You have your weapon, remember.’

‘Impasse. Such a simple word with a complicated meaning.’ He sighed and shook his head as if he despaired at the sorry state in which our world had found itself. ‘Are you a religious man?’

‘What?’

‘The chotki on your wrist.’

My hands were slightly raised, the sleeves of my coat pulled down to reveal the lambswool prayer rope. ‘My wife’s,’ I said.

‘She’s not with you?’

‘No.’

The man nodded as if he knew what I was saying. ‘Let me offer an olive branch.’ He lowered the shotgun a touch further and nodded at Kashtan. ‘I can fix her for you,’ he said. ‘The horse. And there’s some oats in the barn. Not much, but enough. For one rouble she’ll be as good as new and you can be on your way.’

I glanced up at the grey sky and wondered if it might snow tonight. The frost, at least, would be heavy and deep. I wanted to push on, to gain some ground after having lost so much in the forest, but I was exhausted and so was Kashtan. The father and husband in me wanted to move on regardless, but the soldier told me that a night of rest would serve me well. Tomorrow, I would move faster and make up for lost time.

‘What about a hot meal?’ I asked. ‘I’ll pay you three for that and to sleep in the barn tonight.’

He took a deep breath and puffed his cheeks as he blew out. ‘I don’t know…’

‘I’ve been travelling a long time. I’m hungry. Cold. Please.’

The man stared at me, thinking it over. ‘We’ll fix the horse first,’ he said. ‘Then we’ll see.’

‘All right,’ I said, stepping closer to the fence and putting out my hand. ‘My name is Kolya.’

The man looked at my hand as if he didn’t know what to do. To not take it would be an insult, but the alternative would bring him close to me.

I waited for him to make up his mind, standing with my arm stretched across the fence until he finally stepped forward and took it, shaking once and saying, ‘Lev.’ It was in that moment of friendship and peace, when he had lowered his guard, that I could have killed him.

It would have been the easiest thing in the world for me to pull him towards me, slip the revolver from my pocket and shoot him dead, or take the knife from inside my coat and put the steel in him. Instead I looked him in the eye and felt the warmth of his hand and the hesitant offer of friendship.

Then we broke away and he stepped back.

‘Stay there,’ he said.

He backed off to the izba, eyes still on me, only stopping when he reached the front door. He knocked once and the door eased open, just a crack.

I moved my hands towards my coat pocket, seeking the reassurance of my pistol, anticipating danger. I almost expected soldiers to burst from the house, but all I saw was a glimpse of Lev’s son at the opening.

They spoke for a second, then the door shut and I heard bolts being drawn across. Lev returned, standing on the other side of the fence as if he was reconsidering his offer.

‘Please,’ I said. ‘My horse will go lame without help. I mean no harm. I swear it.’

‘On the lives of your children?’ he asked. ‘Devil take you?’

It was a serious request, especially considering I didn’t know where Misha and Pavel were, but I really didn’t mean this man and his son any harm.

‘On their lives,’ I said, letting him see how solemn this vow was. ‘Devil take me.’

Lev nodded and swung the gate open, stepping back, gesturing towards the barn. ‘Come,’ he said.

‘And the dog?’

‘I don’t think he’ll hurt you.’

I stepped towards the animal, holding out my hand, and he came forward to take my scent. He was just over knee height on me, solid-looking, but his stomach was becoming hollow and his ribs were beginning to show through his coat. He showed me no more aggression, allowing me to run my hand over his head and rub one of his ears in my fingers.

Satisfied the dog was comfortable with me, I led Kashtan through the gate towards the closed door of the barn. She had known dogs in her time but seemed a little nervous of this one. If he came too close, he might frighten her, so I kept her head forward and away from the animal.

Lev might have shaken my hand, but he wasn’t naive enough to trust me. He walked behind us, shotgun in hand, exactly as I would have done in his position. The nape of my neck tingled with anticipation and I told myself to relax. I was accustomed to dealing with threat, rather than deferring to it, but I needed Kashtan to stay calm. If she detected my anxiety, it would heighten her own. I also understood Lev’s need to protect what was his.

‘Open it,’ he said.

I stopped, slipping a hand into my pocket and curling my fingers round my revolver. I had no idea what was in that barn. It might be filled with soldiers waiting to hang me from the nearest tree or flay the skin from my back.

‘Something wrong?’ he asked.

I looked up at Kashtan to see if she showed any sign of fear. She was a good judge of a situation and she communicated her feelings with a turn of her ears or a swish of her tail, but she seemed more relaxed than she had been for a while and I took it as a good sign.

‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘It’s been a long ride.’ I took my hand from my pocket and gripped the door handle, taking a deep breath and pulling it wide.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness inside the barn, but Kashtan showed no hesitation. She pushed past me and went in where it was warm and there was a heavy smell of horses. When I followed, I looked about, seeing armatures on the near wall, one of which had a saddle on it and others that held assorted tack – halters, bridles, stirrups – some of which looked old and unusable. There was a door in the rear wall of the barn, bolted shut from the inside, and close to it, a second horse grazed on hay piled in the corner. Another mare, taller than Kashtan, almost black and with white socks on her front feet. She hardly even looked up at us, just a quick glance that displayed the white blaze on her nose.

‘She’s beautiful,’ I said.

‘Light that.’ Lev pointed to a lamp hanging from a nail in one of the barn’s supports, then pushed past and went to Kashtan.

I closed the door, shutting out the bleak landscape I had travelled through that day, and put a match to the wick. A warm glow filled the area about us, contrasting with the harsh greys and blacks that had filled my day. It was the most comfort I had felt since the fire last night, and I allowed myself a moment to enjoy the relative safety, hidden from the dangers outside.

Lev told me to stay there. ‘Where I can see you,’ he said.

The big dog lay down close to me, his head up and his tongue lolling from one side of his mouth.

Lev turned Kashtan so she was between us, protecting him from anything I might do, then he placed his shotgun within easy reach and lifted her foot to remove the binding. He had made an attempt to shield himself using my horse, but he was not accustomed to situations like this. If our roles were reversed, I would have remained armed while I told the other man to remove the binding. Lev was not a soldier, I was sure of that, but neither did he have the complexion of a farmer. And that suggested he didn’t belong here any more than I did.

He looked over at me time and again as he worked, afraid to take his eyes off me as he inspected the damage to Kashtan’s hoof. He never once turned his back on me, always kept Kashtan between us, and whenever he moved, he brought the shotgun with him, keeping it close to hand at all times. He was a sensible man. Though I had extended a hand of friendship, he was still wary of the dangers I might present, and his fear made me nervous. I wondered what small act it would take for me to make him feel he needed to use that weapon. Perhaps just a movement in the wrong direction.

‘I’d be happier if you put the shotgun away,’ I said. ‘You don’t need it.’

‘I’ll keep it with me for now.’ He paused, watching me. ‘You have your rifle.’

‘I don’t need it.’ I shrugged it off my shoulder, making him lift the shotgun. ‘I’m just putting it down,’ I said, holding it out in front of me with one hand and placing it on the floor before stepping away from it. ‘There. It’s down.’

The dog came to see what I had put on the floor, sniffing it before going back to lie in the straw, this time putting his head on his paws as if bored by what was happening in the barn. Kashtan watched the animal, but was less bothered than before. She saw that I was not afraid of him and that bolstered her confidence.

Lev lowered the shotgun and took a deep breath. ‘This hoof’s not too bad. I can fix this.’

‘And shoe her?’

‘Of course.’

‘While holding a shotgun?’

Lev said nothing.

‘I’m sorry. Look, I really don’t mean any harm.’ I turned to one side so he couldn’t see as I took a fold of money from my coat pocket, counting off three roubles before tucking the rest away and holding the notes out to him. ‘For the work, some oats for my horse… and for a meal and a bed.’

‘We’ll talk about that later.’

‘Whatever you say.’

‘Put it on the table.’ He tipped his head towards the side of the barn where a sturdy wooden table was laid with an assortment of tools. There were others hanging on the wall, resting on well-placed nails, and there were ropes and pieces of leather and a heavy black anvil to one side of the table, beside a wooden crate filled with loose horseshoes.

‘You’re a blacksmith?’ I asked, laying the notes beside a set of iron tongs. But his hands were not blacksmith’s hands.

‘Something like that. And you? A soldier?’

‘Something like that,’ I echoed his own words, and backed away from the table.

When he had finished checking Kashtan, he came over to take the notes, stuffing them into his pocket before examining the tools, standing sideways so he could watch me. He kept the shotgun in one hand as he hunted for the right implements, looking up at those on the wall, then returning his attention to the ones in front of him, moving some of them about and half bending to look under the table.

‘Lost something?’ I asked.

‘Hmm?’

‘Have you lost something?’

He shook his head in dismissal, distracted by his search. I thought it strange that he couldn’t find what he was looking for. When Papa used to take Alek and me to the blacksmith in Dolinsk, I spent my time studying the neat rows of clean tools. Every implement was returned to the place from which it had been taken as soon as it had been used. And in the army, the company blacksmith was almost obsessive about his tools. In the same way that soldiers kept their weapons clean, so blacksmiths took care of their implements. They were their livelihood. As I watched Lev searching, I thought about the turnip field outside, the vegetables swollen and past harvesting, and something occurred to me that I hadn’t thought of before.

‘This isn’t your barn, is it?’ I asked.

Lev stopped.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said. ‘It’s not my business. All I want is to fix my horse.’

He started to straighten now, bringing the shotgun up as he did, the barrel rising in my direction. ‘Who are you?’

The intonation of his voice made the dog sit upright.

‘You really don’t need that,’ I said, taking a step towards him and putting my hands out to the side. ‘I’d feel much better if you put it down.’

His eyes followed the movement of my hands and I seized the opportunity to act while he was distracted. I took just one more step, turning to the side so that if he fired, it would miss me, and I grabbed the barrel of his weapon in both hands, pulling hard with a sudden jerk. The force of it, combined with his awkward positioning, unbalanced him and dragged him forwards. I snatched the weapon from his grasp and let him fall to the floor, where he scrambled in the straw to turn onto his back and look up at me. With the suddenness of the movement, the dog sprang to his feet. I turned the shotgun on him, but he did not rush to Lev’s aid. He stood and growled, lowering his head and raising his shoulders, but made no attempt to attack me or protect Lev. The dog’s reaction seemed more to warn me away from himself, and the impression I had was that the creature did not belong to Lev.

‘Don’t kill me.’ Lev raised his hands and shrank back.

‘I don’t want to kill you,’ I told him, sharing my attention between him and the dog. ‘I want you to help me.’

Lev opened his mouth but said nothing.

‘So you don’t need this.’ I broke the shotgun open, picked out the cartridges and put them in my pocket before laying the weapon on the table and stepping away. ‘I told you,’ I said, holding out a hand to help him up, ‘I just want to fix my horse and have something to eat. Sleep somewhere warm for a change.’

Lev propped himself up on his elbows and looked at my outstretched hand. ‘Fine.’ He reached out to take it. ‘Fine.’

‘Leave him alone.’ A childish voice spoke to my right and I turned to see that the door was open and Lev’s son was standing just inside with his back to the last of the light. He was holding an axe over his shoulder as if about to take a swing. ‘Get away from him.’

‘I’m just helping him up,’ I said, taking Lev’s weight and pulling.

The child cocked the axe back a little further and stepped into the barn and I saw that he was not Lev’s son at all. Dressed in trousers and a quilted jacket, and with a boyish frame, it was no wonder I had mistaken this child for a boy, but when she came closer, I saw her for what she was: a frightened but determined girl. Her dark hair fell in a messy plait from beneath the back of her cap. Her skin was pale and smooth, her cheeks reddened by the cold. Her features were fine, but she had tightened her face into a hard look of aggression.

‘Put it down, Anna.’

The girl hesitated with the axe held high, looking first at her father then at me.

‘It’s all right,’ Lev said, crossing to her and taking hold of the axe, setting it against the wall. ‘Kolya is our friend.’ He glanced at me. ‘Isn’t that right?’

‘Yes.’ I went to the door and looked out, scanning the horizon, then closing it to keep the warmth inside. ‘That’s right.’