It was fifty miles from Medyn to Ghzatsk, and the road was narrow and unfrequented. For part of the way it paralleled the river Lutza, and in several places the river had overflowed its banks, and the road disappeared. They had to take to the fields then, and pick their way through near-marsh. Once they passed beyond the head of the river onto higher ground, the road ran through pine forest, dense and gloomy, and unnaturally quiet; but the surface underfoot was hard and dry, and they were able to pick up speed.
It was beginning to grow dark, and they were all wondering silently where they would be able to spend the night, and whether they would have to sleep out, when suddenly a party of Cossacks sprang out from the trees and blocked the road in front of them. The ponies started and jostled about; Kirov reached automatically for his pistol, and then realised that several guns were already pointed at him, and lowered his hand reluctantly.
‘And who might you be, and where are you going?’ the leader asked with an insolent grin. ‘Mighty well covered up, aren’t you? What’s on the baggage horse? Loot stolen from Moscow?’
‘Steady your men,’ Kirov said sternly. ‘We’re not French refugees. I’m a Russian officer.’ Moving his hand slowly and keeping it well in sight, he unbuttoned the collar of his fur-lined cloak and pulled it open to show his uniform. The guns were lowered, and the Cossacks pressed their horses forward curiously, wanting to know what they were doing and why they had a woman along with them.
‘One of the French officers has stolen my daughter,’ the Count said succinctly. ‘My wife and my servant and I are going after them, to bring her back.’
There was an approving clamour.
‘Why, good for you, Colonel! And Madame Colonel!’
‘Dirty French scum! You ought to cut his balls off when you catch him!’
‘You’ve missed ’em by two days, Colonel, but you’ll catch up with ’em!’
‘We’ve seen off fifty or more in the last few days. We pick ’em off as soon as they drop out of line.’
‘When we catch ’em, we give ’em to the peasants,’ the leader explained with relish. ‘They make it last a good, long time!’ Anne shuddered to think what would have happened to them if the Cossacks hadn’t believed Nikolai.
‘The French have passed this way, then?’ he was asking now. The leader nodded, and waved a hand backwards over his shoulder. ‘They came along the highway, and passed through Ghzatsk two days since. They thought they’d find supplies there – a supply train all the way from France – but we got to it first. We killed the drivers and drove it off before they’d got a sniff of it! We took all the food and fodder – all they found was some fancy French wine, and much good may that do ’em!’
‘So Ghzatsk is empty now? How far are we from it?’
‘Five or six versts.’ The leader shook his head. ‘But you wouldn’t want to stay there, Colonel. Full of corpses and sick men. Stragglers still coming in, too. Besides, the French pretty well destroyed it the first time through, on the way to Moscow. There’s nothing much there now but ruins and canals choked with dead horses.’
‘We have our own provisions,’ Kirov said. ‘All we need is shelter for the night. We’ll ride on in the morning.’
The Cossack leader nodded. ‘Don’t you worry, sir. Come along with us, and we’ll find a peasant house where you can stay. You don’t mind roughing it, I suppose?’
‘Not at all. A barn will do.’
‘We’ll find you somewhere better than that. And we’ll pass the word down the line, that you’re to be looked after. There are plenty of izby off the road that haven’t been destroyed, if you know where to look for them. The peasants are out for French blood, and they like chopping up the prisoners we bring them, and the foragers who stray too far from the road. But they’ll take care of you all right, and your good lady, don’t worry.’ Kirov exchanged a look with Adonis, who shrugged slightly, and then nodded. It was not, he thought, as though they had any choice about accepting the Cossacks’ help. But it would make their journey easier, and it would be as well for them to be granted safe passage, in case the angry peasants mistook them for French refugees.
The Cossack party crowded round them, and they left the path under their escort and rode through the trees, the pace picking up, despite having to wind in and out of the trunks, to a fast trot. Anne had to keep her wits about her so as not to part company with her mount when he dodged one way round a tree, and she the other. It was almost completely dark when they trotted into a clearing and confronted a log-built, two-storey peasant house, from whose chimney a cheering plume of smoke was rising ghostly grey in the gloom.
The leader gave a high chirruping call, like the kee-wick of a hunting owl. It was evidently a signal, for at once the door of the izba opened and a trapezium of yellow light fell out across the invisible grass. A stocky peasant stood there, with a precautionary short-handled axe in one hand, and what looked like a piece of bread in the other.
The leader jumped down from his pony and held a short, sotto-voce conversation with him, after which he turned to Kirov and said cheerfully, ‘All right, Colonel. Lev here will give you all a bed for the night, and put you, on your way tomorrow, first light. We’ll pass the word about you. You’ll be all right.’
‘Thank you,’ Kirov said. ‘We’re very grateful.’
‘Nothing to it, Colonel!’ He mounted and wheeled round after his men. ‘Don’t forget,’ he called cheerfully as they trotted away into the darkness, ‘when you catch him, cut the bastard’s balls off!’
Inside the hut was just like any other – the stove, the long wooden table, the benches, the shelves high up with their few belongings. Anne made automatic obeisance to the Beautiful Corner, remembering the first time she had made the gesture, long ago in the company of Irina, and how strange it had seemed. It came naturally to her now. She wondered what her father or Miss Oliver would think to see her cross herself before an icon of St Sergei. How shocked they would be! England was far away now, like the most distant of dreams. She did not believe that she would ever see it again: Russia had taken hostage of her now.
The peasants were kindly, shy and monosyllabic. They offered them a seat near the stove, and one of the women began preparing tea, while two of the young men went out with Adonis to settle the horses.
‘We won’t take your food,’ Anne said at once, thinking they probably had very little to begin with, and would be worried about their stores being depleted by the unexpected burden of two dvoriane and a large mercenary. ‘We have brought food of our own with us.’
But one of the women, middle-aged and broad-bodied, but hard, like a rosehip, rather than fat, drew herself up with unexpected dignity and said, ‘No, Barina, you are our guests. You keep your food for later. You may need it.’
‘You are very kind,’ Anne said. ‘But we do not wish to leave you short.’
‘While we have food, we will share it. So God orders us to be hospitable, lest we entertain an angel unawares. You are welcome to all we have, Barina.’
So they shared the evening meal, a simple affair of cabbage soup, black bread and salted cucumbers. Afterwards the man of the house brought out a flask of kvass, and a pipe was lit and passed amongst the men. Kirov bravely shared it, and they all talked about the war and what would happen next. Meanwhile one of the women had guessed Anne’s condition, and on the women’s side of the stove there followed a deep and detailed discussion of all the pregnancies and labours they had known. Anne found it interesting that none of them suggested that she was doing anything out of the ordinary by riding with Kirov in her condition. They were perfectly accustomed to working until the last moment of their own gestations; the idea of taking to the sofa for nine months was alien to them.