Red Winter

35

The atmosphere in the house was thick with emotion and tension. There was a smell of fear in there that I almost didn’t notice, because I had become so accustomed to it, but when I took the first breath of the fresh winter air, I wondered how I could have allowed it to become so familiar. I felt a jab of disgust with myself that it had passed me by. I should never be able to ignore it, and yet here I was, spreading that fear, amplifying it. I had come so far and sunk so low that I had become numb to the terrible feelings in that house. My mind had learned to ignore such things and I hated myself for that. I had been away from home for too long. I needed to be back with Marianna.

I took a long, deep breath of air that was so cold it hurt when it touched my lungs. It made my chest ache, and I reminded myself I had to be tough. I didn’t have time to hate myself or what I was doing. I had one purpose. Nothing else mattered. Everything else was just a distraction.

The air bit at my ungloved hands as I tightened my fingers on the revolver and pushed Oksana forward. I stood directly behind her, covered by her body, and kept my head behind hers as much as possible. Only the side of my face was visible to the men in the yard.

We came out on the step, the gentle white flakes unchanged by our presence. Like the forest, they were unaffected by the small matters of the lives played out beneath them. They fell with consistency and grace, wisps that floated with the occasional flurry, settling on my shoulders, melting on my eyelids, painting the land a glorious, brilliant white that would cover the fallen men in the fields, making winter’s own cairns.

I surveyed the yard, the snowflakes impeding my vision as I picked out the men, still in their places. That they hadn’t moved told me much about their discipline and resolve – or perhaps their fear of their leader.

I took Oksana down the step, the revolver firm under her chin, and when we reached the bottom, standing on the thin layer of snow, the mud almost covered, I stopped and spoke aloud. ‘Who’s in charge?’

It was quiet out there. The night had settled and nothing stirred in the forest. Not even the wind wanted to blow. And though it was only sparse, the fresh fall cushioned everything.

‘Who’s in charge?’ I asked again. ‘Come forward.’

Still no one spoke. The men remained in their positions, motionless. They didn’t even look to one another. They were like statues, frozen in time, with only their heads visible above the cover they had chosen.

‘Speak now,’ I said, ‘or I’ll take this woman back inside and kill her in front of her children.’

‘You wouldn’t do that.’

I looked in the direction the voice had come from. By the cart. The last remnants of steamy breath hung in the air like a ghost before breaking up and fading to nothing.

‘You want to test me?’ I asked. ‘Very well.’ I began to move backwards, pulling Oksana, keeping the barrel of the gun tight under her chin.

‘Wait.’

I stopped.

‘You don’t need to kill her.’ The plume of steamy breath from the cart.

‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘I don’t.’

There was a pause. Just long enough for a heartbeat. Long enough for a hesitation. Then the owner of the voice moved, shifting and standing.

‘What do you want?’ he asked.

‘Come into the centre of the yard.’

Again, there was a pause before the man shifted, walking slowly, holding himself upright, a little stiff as if he carried the ghost of a limp. He came round the cart and moved towards us, boots squeaking on the snow. His rifle was pulled to his shoulder, ready to shoot. He was not much more than the silhouette of a man in a heavy coat and warm ushanka.

All that was visible of the moon through the clouds was behind him and I wished it had been better placed. I wanted to see the man’s face, to see if I knew him, but one thing I did know – this was not Krukov. This man did not have the lean, gaunt profile of Koschei the Deathless.

When he reached the centre of the yard, I spoke to him, saying, ‘Stop there. Put your weapon on the ground.’

He stood watching me, rifle aimed, wondering what I was going to do.

‘Put it down,’ I said. ‘Last chance.’

His arms relaxed and he lowered the rifle, crouching to place it on the ground in front of him.

‘Now step back.’

This time he complied straight away.

‘Tell the others to do the same,’ I ordered.

‘I can’t do that.’

‘Then the woman dies.’ I began to shuffle backwards, taking Oksana towards the door, moving into a faint semicircle of orange lamplight that washed across the snow at my feet.

‘He’ll do it,’ Tanya said from behind me, and there was something in her voice, something that told me she really believed I would. She wasn’t just saying it to make him comply.

‘All right.’ He put up his hands. ‘Wait.’ He turned his head to speak to the men behind him. ‘Come out. Everyone come here and put down your weapons.’

None hesitated. They did exactly as commanded and I knew this man was in charge.

In a short time, the men stood in a line, five of them, with their weapons on the ground in front of them.

‘Everybody take two steps back,’ I said.

As soon as they did as I had asked, the light moved behind me. It became more concentrated, the semicircle receding as Tanya placed the lamp on the floor, then she came out of the house behind me, her footfall soft, just the slightest creak of snow in the tread of her boots. She moved past me, glaring, and collected the rifles, taking them inside the house before returning to inspect the men for more weapons.

We stood in silence as she moved among them, pocketing what they had. Oksana had relaxed a little in my grip, but it was cold and she was without a coat and had begun to shiver. I was reminded of the moment I had found Marianna’s winter coat at home, still hanging behind the door in the bedroom. If she were outside without her coat right now, she too would be shivering. Or perhaps she was beyond needing it; beyond feeling anything.

‘That’s it,’ Tanya said, coming to my side. ‘They’re harmless. Well, less dangerous.’

I nodded. ‘Do any of you men know where Koschei is?’

No one answered.

‘I’m looking for Arkady Krukov. Where is he?’ I raised my voice, feeling my anger threaten to get the better of me. I was close now. So close. If Krukov was not here, at least these men might tell me where he was.

‘Where is he?’ Without realising it, I jammed the revolver harder into Oksana’s throat, eliciting a small cry of pain from her.

‘Don’t…’ The words escaped Tanya before she could stop herself, and at the same time, the soldier who had first come forward held out a hand.

‘No,’ he said.

‘Why not?’ I asked. ‘What’s so important about these people?’

Tanya said nothing. The man said nothing. Instead he cocked his head to one side as if he had heard or seen something he wasn’t expecting.

‘Who are they?’ I repeated, moving my left hand up and taking a fistful of Oksana’s hair, tugging her head back so they could see the revolver pressed hard against the underside of her chin. Just in case there was any doubt about what was going to happen to her.

‘Please.’ The man held out both hands and took a step forward, coming closer to where the light was more concentrated. ‘I—’

‘Stay there.’

Again he cocked his head to one side as if listening, one foot forward, his body weight shifting in my direction.

‘No closer,’ I said, but already he was close enough for me to recognise him. His voice hadn’t given him away, and nor had mine, but his face was familiar. I knew this soldier and he knew me. We were not friends, we had not served together for more than a few days, but I knew him nonetheless.

‘Levitsky?’

The name sent a jolt right through me, just as it had on the train when Commander Orlov had identified me. I sensed Tanya stiffen beside me. Oksana tensed under my grip.

‘Is that you?’ the man said. ‘Nikolai Levitsky?’

‘I…’ But it was too late for me to hide it; I could not deny who I was. There was nothing I could say. There was nothing I could do.

‘We thought you were dead.’

‘Do you know this man?’ Tanya said, taking a step away from me.

‘Do I know him?’ the man replied as he stood to attention. ‘Of course I know him.’ He raised a hand to his brow in salute. ‘This is Commander Nikolai Levitsky, rightful commander of this unit.’