The Winter Thief

74

Apollo shouted at the convoy to stop. The traces had snapped on one of the pack animals, and the saddlebags and supplies hung from its belly. The horse bucked and kicked at the weight dangling beneath it and then slipped on the icy trail, sliding down the ravine on its side, trailing the baggage. “Damn it,” Apollo shouted, pointing at the lead mule that, spooked by the horse, had begun to balk. “Keep the other animals calm.”

Vera worked her horse up to the mule. Holding the tether, she stroked the animal until it quieted.

Apollo dismounted so he could squeeze by the carts on the narrow road, in places no more than five paces wide. “Where did you learn to handle animals like that?” he asked Vera.

“My father has a dacha where he goes to hunt and to tame steppe horses. He used to take me along.” As she spoke about her father, she missed him with a searing intensity. He wouldn’t recognize her, she thought, in her broad wool shalvar trousers and fox fur cape and hat.

Behind them stretched a row of ten carts, each with five barrels strapped on and pulled by a team of mules or oxen. Before them, jagged cliffs rose to the summit, wreathed in clouds. On one side of the road gaped the deep ravine down which the horse had slid. Although the animal was lost from view, Vera could hear its screams.

Their group was made up of the ten men who had accompanied them from Istanbul on the ship and eight local men, Yedo’s cousins, all from the same clan. So far they had made good, if slow, progress. Snow blocked some sections of the road, and the men were forced to dig their way through. The animals had strained upward to the Zargana Pass, but now the road had narrowed so much that the carts could pass only with great difficulty. Sheets of ice extended where meltwater had collected and frozen. The animals skidded and, together with their carts, threatened to follow the horse into the ravine.

Apollo told them to wait while he scouted ahead. Yedo handed him the long wand they used to probe beneath the snow for fissures. Vera insisted on accompanying Apollo. “My father always said there should be two people on an expedition. If something happens, one can go for help.”

“Well, see you don’t get into any trouble then, Vreni,” Apollo answered, and kicked his horse’s flanks.

They worked their horses through the pass, testing the ground before them, and finally emerged onto a bluff that overlooked a protected valley of meadows amid fields of snow. “The road looks open from here on,” Vera noted. “But how do we get the carts this far?”

“There must be a way,” Apollo insisted. “This is the main road through the mountains. People bring carts through here all the time.”

“Not in winter. Remember, they told us in Trabzon that we were crazy to head out now. This is what they meant.”

“Let’s go back and look again. We can’t stay up here at night. We’ll freeze to death.”

“Is there any salt among the supplies?”

“Three sacks. I know what you’re thinking, but it isn’t enough to clear the whole way.”

“We don’t need to clear the entire road, just tracks for the animals and the cart wheels.”

Apollo thought about this for a moment, then yelled, “You get a medal, Vreni!” and spurred his horse back through the pass. Vera followed, smiling.

It was a long and grueling business, judiciously spooning the salt into narrow channels, waiting for it to burn into the ice, then moving the animals quickly before it froze up again. Two mules slid down the ravine, together with the cart they had been pulling and five barrels containing a hundred rifles. The driver had jumped off but had broken a leg, and his moans as the cart on which he lay jolted over the rough tracks followed the party like an ill omen. It was almost dark before they reached the other side of the pass. Vera could see lines of smoke rising from houses in the valley below. Then it began to rain, making the road even more treacherous.

They lost two more carts before they reached the village, although they managed to retrieve the weapons. These lay bound together under a tarpaulin, threatening to slide out of the vehicle at every incline. It was a miserable parade of mismatched men, the Istanbulis contemptuous of the locals and vice versa. The two groups had almost come to blows several times, but Yedo had mediated between them. The villagers greeted the local men warmly, and soon the warmth of a fire, meat, hot bread, and wine eased the tensions.

Each day that brought them closer to New Concord increased Vera’s excitement and apprehension. She began to avoid Apollo, disappearing for hours into a silent cocoon, collecting herself, trying to imagine herself as Gabriel’s wife. She would see her husband soon, she told herself, relishing the word “husband,” then immediately seizing up with fear that Gabriel would no longer find her attractive or would be angry at the trouble she had caused him. There were no visible scars from what had been done to her at Akrep headquarters. Perhaps, she thought, she shouldn’t tell Gabriel. Then everything would be as before. But she didn’t believe that for a moment. By the time they came within sight of the monastery, Vera felt confused and eager in equal measure.

Ten days after they had set out from Trabzon, they arrived at New Concord. The heavy iron gate swung open, and Gabriel and several others ran out to meet them. Apollo dismounted, and he and Gabriel embraced and pounded each other’s backs. Vera remained on her horse, the collar of her fox fur cape and hat hiding much of her face. She could see Gabriel scanning the ragged group. Apollo’s messenger would have told him that she was coming.

Gabriel walked over and peered up at her. “Vera?” He had grown a beard, brown with reddish patches at the cheeks.

She listened to her heart, which thundered beneath the cape. Was it passion or fear? Why couldn’t she tell the difference? she wondered. “It’s me, Gabriel,” she answered, and slid from her horse into his embrace.

She heard Apollo shouting at the men to get the carts inside and unloaded. The sky was bruised violet. She could feel the darkness descending from the mountains like a cold breath on her neck. Gabriel took her arm and led her through the gate into the courtyard. They left the clanking of harnesses and rustle of tarpaulin being pulled from the carts and entered the main hall of New Concord commune. A fire burned in the grate, and a blond woman with freckles hurried over to greet her. She introduced herself as Alicia. When Vera turned back, Gabriel had gone without a word.

Alicia brought Vera a bowl of cabbage stew and sat beside her while she ate, telling her about the commune and occasionally laying her hand on Vera’s arm. Vera wondered if the woman had sensed the pain that had shot through her when she saw that Gabriel had gone. Vera didn’t like being the object of Alicia’s pity but found the weight of the woman’s hand comforting.

By the time Gabriel returned some hours later, Vera had recovered herself. Of course he had to help unload the carts and unharness the animals. Why had she thought he would immediately drop everything just to be with her? He always put duty first. She knew that about him, and she had married him. It was something she admired, she reminded herself. Her father, a general, also was often absent from home.

Gabriel came to sit beside her on the quilt Alicia had given her. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment. His beard gleamed in the firelight. Then he put his arm around her, the weight of it heavy on her shoulders.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” he told her, his voice rough with emotion, his breath sour. She felt him looking at her and nodded without answering. She moved closer and began to shiver.

“I came back for you and you were gone,” Gabriel said. “What happened?”

“They arrested me.”

“The secret police?”

Vera nodded again.

“Where did they take you? Are you all right?”

Vera meant to say yes. “No.” She forced the word out. “No, I’m not.” She felt Gabriel tense, but he didn’t ask. Instead he pulled her head onto his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Vera. The police were after me. I had to leave Istanbul. But Yorg Pasha swore he would get you out, and he did. I wouldn’t have gone if I hadn’t thought he would do that.”

“Who is Yorg Pasha?” Vera asked, lifting her head and meeting Gabriel’s tired eyes.

Gabriel looked surprised. “How did you get out then?”

“I ran away.”

Gabriel laughed, showing yellowed teeth. “Good for you. You didn’t need me at all.” Vera winced. He had aged since she last saw him, even though that was only two months ago. An eternity ago. She told him about the girl, Sosi, who had helped her escape and been killed.

“There were a lot of things I never expected I could bear.” Her voice caught.

Gabriel glanced away, embarrassed. “Whatever happened doesn’t matter to me. I’m glad you’re safe.” He held her close and pressed his cold lips against her cheek. “That’s behind us now, my wife. You’ll be happy at New Concord.” He began to tell her his plans for the commune. His eyes shone, and Vera saw again the visionary with whom she had fallen in love. Perhaps it was possible, she thought, listening to the fervor in his voice.