‘Grandpa, why is that cross there?’ asked Yegorushka.
Panteley looked at the cross, then at Dymov and asked, ‘Mikola, isn’t this where them reapers murdered the merchants?’
Reluctantly, Dymov raised himself on one elbow and looked at the road.
‘That’s the place all right,’ he replied.
Silence followed. Kiryukha broke some dry stalks, bundled them together and thrust them under the pot. The fire flared up; Styopka was enveloped in black smoke and in the darkness the shadow of the cross darted down the road near the wagons.
‘Yes, they was murdered,’ Dymov said reluctantly. ‘Some merchants, father and son, was travelling around selling icons. They put up at an inn not far from here – it’s kept by Ignaty Fomin now. The old boy had a drop too much and took to boasting that he’d a pile of cash on him. As you know, merchants is a boastful lot, God save us, and he just couldn’t help showing off to the people there. Well, at that time some reapers was staying the night at the inn. When they heard the merchant boasting like that they took note.’
‘Oh Lord! Oh Mother of God!’ sighed Panteley.
‘So, next day, at first light,’ continued Dymov, ‘the merchants was about to go on their way when the reapers tagged along with them. “Let’s all travel together, yer ‘onner,” they said. “It’s more cheerful and it’s safer, seeing as it’s a bit off the beaten track around ’ere.” So as not to break the icons the merchants had to go at walking-pace – and that suited the reapers down to the ground.’
Dymov rose to a kneeling position and stretched himself.
‘Yes,’ he continued. ‘There weren’t no trouble until the merchants reached this spot, when the reapers laid into ’em with their scythes. The son put up a good fight, grabbed a scythe from one of them and laid into ’em too. Well, as I don’t have to tell you, the reapers came out on top, seeing as there was eight of them. They hacked at the merchants till there wasn’t a piece of flesh left on ’em. After they’d finished their business they dragged ’em off the road, father on one side, the son on the other. Opposite this cross, on the other side, there’s another one… Don’t know if it’s still in one piece… can’t see it from here.’
‘It’s still in one piece,’ said Kiryukha. ‘Folks say they didn’t find much money.’
‘No, not much,’ confirmed Panteley. ‘A hundred roubles in all.’
‘Yes – and three of them reapers died soon afterwards, seeing as the merchant gave ’em a right slashing with his scythe. They bled to death. The merchant chopped off one of the reaper’s hands and they say he ran about three mile without it. They found ’im on a little hill near Kurikov. He was squatting with his head on his knees as if he was thinking hard. But when they looked closer they saw the spirit had departed – he was dead.’
‘They found him from the trail of blood,’ said Panteley.
Everyone looked at the cross and again there was a hush. From somewhere, probably the gully, came the mournful sound of a bird, ‘Sleep! sleep! sleep!’
‘There’s many wicked folk in this world,’ said Yemelyan.
‘So many, so many!’ affirmed Panteley, drawing closer to the fire – and from his expression he seemed scared. ‘So many,’ he continued in an undertone. ‘I’ve seen so many of ’em in my time… wicked folk, like. I’ve seen many righteous folk, but sinners be beyond number. Save us and have mercy, Holy Mother!… I remember once – about thirty years ago, maybe more – I was driving a merchant from Morshansk.19 He were a handsome fellow, very grand and he had pots of money… that merchant, like… He were a good man, right decent sort. So, we was driving along and we put up for the night at an inn. But in the north the inns ain’t like they be in these ’ere parts. Up there the yards are roofed over, like cattle-sheds – rather like threshing-barns on the big farms – only them barns be a bit higher, like. So, we stopped at the inn and everything seemed all right. My merchant had a room to himself and I stayed with the horses – everything was as it should be. Well, lads, I says me prayers and before I goes to sleep I take a little stroll in the yard. It was pitch-black out there, couldn’t see a darned thing. So I walk on a bit till I’m near the wagons and I see a twinkling light. What the heck could that be! The innkeeper and his wife must’ve long gone to bed and except me and my merchant there was no other guests. So what was that light? Well, I didn’t like the look of it… I went a bit closer… to the light, like. Lord in heaven have mercy! Save us, Holy Mother! Level with the ground there’s a little window with iron bars… in the house, like. So I lie down on the ground to have a look and as soon as I did the shivers ran up and down me spine.’
Trying not to make a noise, Kiryukha put another clump of weeds onto the fire. After waiting for the crackling and hissing to die down the old man continued, ‘I look in and see a big cellar, all dark and gloomy… A small lamp’s burning on a barrel and in the middle there’s about a dozen men in red shirts with rolled-up sleeves – all sharpening long knives. “Oho!” I think, “this means we’ve fallen into a gang of robbers…” So what could we do? I run to the merchant, gently wake him up and say, “Now, Mister Merchant, don’t you go panicking now, but we’re in big trouble. We’ve landed in a robber’s den.” His face drops and he asks, “What are we going to do, Panteley? I’ve a pile of cash on me, it’s for the orphans. As for my soul – that’s in God’s hands. I’m not afraid of dying, but it would be terrible to lose the orphans’ money.” Well, I was at my wits’ end. The gates was locked, there was no escape, either by driving or running out of there. If there’d been a fence – well, you can climb over fences, but the yard was all roofed in… “Well,” I says, “don’t be afraid Mister Merchant, and say your prayers. Perhaps the Lord won’t let any harm come to the orphans. Stay in your room and lie low. Meanwhile I’ll try and think of something.” Agreed. So I prays to God and he instructs me in me mind, like. I climb onto the carriage and ever so quiet, so no one could hear, I start stripping the thatch from the eaves. I make a hole and out I climb. Out, like… Then I run down the road as fast as I can. I run and I run – fair knackered myself, I did. Must’ve run about three mile in one breath – maybe more… Well, praise be to God, I see a village and run to one of the huts and bang on the window. “Good Christians!” I cries, “don’t let a Christian soul perish.” I wakes ’em all up. The villagers gather together and off we go. Some had ropes, others cudgels, some pitchforks. We go and break down the inn gate and head straight for the cellar… By then the robbers had sharpened their knives and were about to cut the merchant’s throat. The villagers grabbed the lot of ’em, tied ’em up and hauled ’em off to the police. The merchant gave ’em three hundred roubles to show his thanks and he gave me five gold coins – and he made a note of my name, so’s he could remember me in his prayers. It’s said that later on they found piles of human bones in the cellar… Yes, bones, like. They used to rob folk and then bury ’em so there’d be no trace. Well, the executioners at Morshansk gave ’em a right old flogging.’
Having finished his story, Panteley surveyed his audience. They said nothing and simply looked at him. The water was boiling now and Styopka was skimming the froth.
‘Is the fat ready?’ Kiryukha whispered.
‘Won’t be long.’