When they marched through Moscow and out at the other side, the Cossacks were to hold back the French and let the Russian army get ahead. Once clear of the city, the main force would turn aside off the road and begin to double back south and west. The Cossacks would continue along the road to Ryazan, and with luck, the French would follow, thinking they still had the whole Russian army in front of them. This would gain valuable time, and allow the army to establish itself in a key position to the south of Moscow before the French knew what was happening.
Avoiding the main road over the Dorogomilov bridge, which was choked with army baggage waggons, Kirov passed into the city by one of the more southerly gates, and trotted by a series of back streets towards Byeloskoye, bis mind busy with plans. He didn’t think he would be able to get Anne very far on horseback, or that he ought to try, in view of her condition. The town of Podolsk, twenty miles to the south on the Tula road, ought to be far enough from Moscow to be safe; and if the doubling-back plan worked, it would become the Russians army’s base, which would afford her protection and allow him to be near her. Later, when she had rested and regained her strength, he would have to see about getting hold of some kind of conveyance, and sending her to Tula, to his sister.
There was a great deal of noise coming from the main route through the city which the army was taking. They no longer marched through empty streets: more and more citizens had come out to line the route, believing at first that they were witnessing the arrival of their saviours. When it became known that the army was merely passing through before abandoning them to the French, the cheers changed to shouts of anger and hostility. There was a good deal of drunkenness, too. The taverns ought to have been closed, but there seemed to be no policemen around to enforce the closure. Kirov didn’t like to think how many of the soldiers were slipping away from the ranks into the crowds as the army passed through.
As they turned into the street which led to the gate of Byeloskoye, Adonis said, ‘What’s this then, Colonel? Looks like trouble!’
Two men were slinking along in the shelter of the wall. As soon as they saw the horsemen, they tried to make a run for it, but Kirov and Adonis, moving as one man, blocked the way and drew their pistols.
‘Stop! Stand still, both of you, or I’ll shoot,’ Kirov snapped. The two men stood still, watching warily, eyes everywhere, ready to take any opportunity of bolting. Adonis had dismounted, holding the horses behind him with one hand, covering them with his pistol in the other.
The two men were dressed in rough peasant clothes, and wore woollen caps pulled down close to their eyes. They had a furtive look about them, as would be expected of ne’er-do-wells; yet Kirov felt oddly that they didn’t seem as worried as they ought to have been, if they had been looting.
‘What are you doing here? You’re looters, aren’t you? Turn out your pockets!’
They didn’t move, watching him warily.
‘We’re not looters, master,’ one of them said. ‘We’ve not touched anything.’
‘Then what are you doing here?’
‘We’re on the Governor’s business.’
‘Nonsense! Governor’s business – you?’
Adonis suddenly shot out a hand and snatched off the hat of the nearest man, revealing his shaven scalp.
‘Well, well! Escaped convicts!’ he said with quiet triumph, levelling his pistol at the man’s head.
‘Not escaped!’ the man cried hastily. ‘I swear to you, master. We were let out on purpose – free pardon – to do a job!’
Kirov saw the other give him a look of warning. Making himself sound indifferent, he said, ‘I don’t believe you. What job?’
The second man looked at him cannily. ‘Beg pardon, master, but we don’t know who you are. You might be anyone. You might be a French spy.’
Adonis growled at that, but Kirov gave a grim smile and pulled open his cloak, showing his uniform. ‘What job? You’d better tell me, or I’ll shoot you anyway, just to be on the safe side.’
He had the feeling that the second man would have held out: there was a calm defiance in his eyes. But the first man was more nervous, and evading his companion’s warning eyes, he cried hastily. ‘Incendiaries, master. Mining houses. Thousands of us, let out on purpose by the Governor. The whole city’s going to go up, as soon as the French are in.’
‘You bloody fool!’ the second man snarled.
‘Good God,’ Kirov said. So that was Rostopchin’s ‘plan’. Then, ‘You’ve mined this house? Answer me, damn you! My wife’s in there!’
‘No, master, not this one. We were taking a short cut back to headquarters to get supplies. We haven’t done this one yet – God’s truth!’
Kirov wasn’t sure whether he believed him or not, but this was not the time or place to argue. He waved his pistol peremptorily. ‘Very well. Go on, get off with you. Adonis – the gate!’
The two men scuttled past and disappeared round the corner. Kirov’s mind was seething: incendiaries? The whole city? It would finish Napoleon, finish him completely. But it would also finish Moscow. Moscow, the holy city, would burn! He ought to report back – but the most important thing now was to get Anne out to safety. The men might have mined the house after all – he couldn’t trust their word. Sly Rostopchin! Determined, too. Who would have thought it?
While Anne made her final preparations, Adonis instituted a search of the cellars and outhouses to make sure no incendiary devices had been planted. It seemed the men had told the truth; and the servants who were staying on were now alerted to the danger, and could be trusted to look after their own interests. Some of them, resentful at the turn things had taken, remained in their quarters, and would not emerge even to see the mistress leave. For the others, there was a tearful farewell in the courtyard.
‘The French won’t harm you,’ Anne assured them. ‘You should have enough to eat, with all the stores in the cellars. Keep yourselves safe at all costs. We’ll meet again, when all this is over.’
Mikhailo, his eyes red, spoke for all of them. ‘Yes, Barina. The good times will come again.’
The servants who had been with her in Koloskavets shook her offered hand shyly. Old Nyanya sobbed and begged her to take care of the little Countess, and make sure she had her hot oil treatment every day. Despite the few hours of sleep she had had last night, Anne was numb with weariness, and that was good, for it prevented her from feeling too much sorrow. She mounted the horse Nikolai had brought her and looked briefly at the Greek façade of Byeloskoye, and was sure she would never see it again; yet she felt no emotion. It was already a part of the past. What the future might hold, she could not imagine; but she had everything that mattered – with the new life inside her, and Nikolai beside her, they were going to join Rose.
Pauline, very doubtful about riding cross-saddle, had been helped to mount; the valises were firmly strapped on behind the saddles and covered with blankets; the gate was swung open, and they were off, clattering out into the road under the hazy morning sun. It was September the 14th, and there had been a slight fog that morning. Autumn had definitely come.
When they reached the stone bridge over the Yaouza river on the east side of the city, they found General Tolly sitting on horseback watching the soldiers marching over, and pulled out of the columns to join him at his vantage point. For the last part of the route, the road had been lined with cavalrymen, evidently posted to stop the soldiers from deserting. Tolly, however, greeted Kirov with a shake of the head and the words, ‘God knows how many we’ve lost. I even sent my own aides back to the main intersections, but you can’t keep your eye on everyone. I could have used you earlier. Rostopchin didn’t provide a single policeman, as far as I could see.’