‘But not the best. The one I took was worth half what he owed me, and you can have it back if you want.’ He paused for breath. ‘Send me out to die. Kill me yourself. But at least have pity on my children.’
‘Open the door.’
They went in. The main room of the house was not very light and it had an unmistakable aroma of vodka, not unpleasant. Before him he saw, besides the stout old Jew, a girl of about fifteen, and a boy of eight or nine. He suddenly realized he had not seen the girl for some years, since before he went away to the seminary. She was a striking, dark-haired beauty now, with almond eyes and a curving nose that looked Turkish. The boy, too, was a handsome little fellow.
‘All right,’ Andrei said. ‘I’ll try. But I’ll need help.’ He turned to his friend. ‘Will you help me, my Ox, to protect these Jews?’ he began, but then stopped as he realized that his huge companion had not even heard. For Stepan was staring at the girl open-mouthed, as though he had seen a ghost.
It was Yankel’s own fault that, a few moments later, he lost his life.
He was so relieved and excited to have got the protection of Andrei and his huge friend that, without thinking, he went out through his front door first. Two villagers standing nearby, one with an axe, the other with a scythe, took one look at him and, before the poor fellow even had time to tell them about his protector, fell upon him. He was dead when, moments later, Andrei emerged.
There were several things to be done. One was to question the two captive Poles to see what they could tell him. Another was to make two graves, one for the Poles, another for the Jews. He instructed the villagers to do this. A third was to ride over to see his father.
He took the boy with him.
The sun had just gone down when he reached the farm. He found old Ostap in robust good humour. With all the events of recent months, Mordecai had not been able to visit the farm to claim his labour service and Ostap had ignored the whole business. He had been drinking less and sleeping in the open.
‘I’ve heard it all!’ he cried, as Andrei rode up. ‘A boy from the village came by. Pity you couldn’t have let me know in time, I would have enjoyed that fight.’
He was delighted with the horses, but when Andrei made his other request, his brow clouded.
‘You want me to shelter a Jewish boy?’
Andrei explained everything that had happened.
‘I can’t take him to the camp. The villagers will kill him. Do you want me to leave him to them?’
Old Ostap frowned, unwilling to admit that he might have a soft heart.
‘He must convert,’ he announced. ‘Then he can help on the farm.’
Andrei went over to the boy.
‘This is the only place where you may be safe. People won’t bother my father. But you have to become a Christian.’
‘Never,’ the boy said defiantly.
Andrei paused, then he looked carefully into the boy’s eyes.
‘I promised your father to save your life and I must keep my promise. You have to help me. Do you understand? As long as you stay here, you’re Orthodox.’
The boy looked at him, still defiant, but understanding him.
‘He’s converted,’ Andrei announced.
The Polish prisoners couldn’t tell them much. The Cossacks took all their possessions and let them walk off through the forest.
As soon as this was done, and while his men were setting up their quarters for the night in the fort, Andrei went across the river on his next errand. This was to see Anna.
He had not noticed her so far, but there had been so much to do that it was not particularly surprising. He was taken aback therefore, on reaching her house, to find it closed and boarded up.
‘Where are they?’ he asked.
‘The old man’s gone off with his sons to your Cossack camp,’ their neighbour told him. ‘His wife’s gone to her sister in another village near Pereiaslav.’
‘And Anna?’
‘Anna?’ The man looked surprised. ‘Why, didn’t you know? She’s gone. The Pole took her. Stanislaus. Came by here just after the men left, stayed a few days then off he went and took her with him. Stole her at dawn.’
Andrei could scarcely believe it. First the arrogant Pole had tried to take his farm and humiliate his father. Then he had abducted his girl.
‘Where did they go?’
‘Who knows? They’re probably in Poland by now,’ the man said.
Thoughtfully Andrei returned to the fort. It seemed he had lost his bride.
But I’ll find her, he vowed. As for Stanislaus, there could be only one solution.
If anything could take his mind off his loss, it was the extraordinary thing that had happened to his friend. For if Andrei had lost a bride, it seemed that Stepan had found one.
And whoever could have imagined that, of all the possibilities, his choice would have fallen on the Jewish girl! Despite his own troubles, Andrei almost burst out laughing.
‘But she’s Jewish, my old Ox,’ he protested as they sat together by a little fire inside the fort.
‘She’ll convert,’ Stepan said.
‘Does she say so?’
‘I know she will.’
‘But why this girl?’
‘I don’t know why,’ the strange fellow confessed. ‘I just know that it’s so.’
‘You just saw her and… it was fate.’
‘Yes. That’s it.’
He seemed to be in a kind of daze. Even when they spoke, his eyes had a faraway look and Andrei was not sure if his friend was truly with him.
‘Oh dear, poor old Ox,’ he said. ‘What are you going to do with her? You can’t take her on campaign.’
Stepan nodded his large head slowly.
‘I know. I’ve been thinking about that. I’ll find a priest to marry us. Then I’m going home to the Don with her.’
‘You’re deserting me?’
‘The time has come,’ Stepan said solemnly.
‘You’d better talk to her.’
‘Yes.’ The huge fellow got up slowly. ‘We must talk.’ And with that he walked slowly over to the place where the girl was sitting in the shadows. Quietly he led her to the fire and made her sit by him. Andrei, curious though he was, left them alone. Then, very softly, Stepan began to talk to her.
For some time, from a distance, Andrei watched them. The other Cossacks glanced at them too. What a strange fellow the bearded giant was, to be sure!
The girl seemed to be saying little, watching Stepan with her large, thoughtful eyes, interjecting a word here and there as if to prompt him. There she was, a fifteen-year-old who had seen her own father hacked to death just a few hours before, and now she was sitting with this strange Cossack who had taken it into his head to marry her. And, Andrei thought, it was as if she were the teacher and he the child; for something in her composed, tragic young face made her look older than him – older than any of them, perhaps.
At last, Andrei went to sleep. But several times, that short summer night, he awoke to see them still sitting there, quietly conversing by the glowing embers of the little fire.
What was Stepan saying to her? Who knew what strange jumble of thoughts might be coming from that solemn head. Was he trying to convert her? Was he, perhaps, telling her about the lands past the Don which were his home? Was he telling her his life story, or God knew what tales of magic and superstition with which his simple head was full? Perhaps he was describing the endless, scented steppe, or his belief that all men should be equal brothers. Whatever it was, it was clear to Andrei that his friend, believing that this Jewish girl was his fate incarnate, had chosen that night to pour out his whole soul.
And the girl was listening, always listening.
She probably knows more about that fellow than some wives learn in a lifetime, he thought with a smile, the third time he went to sleep.