“Kirilo! The animals are getting out of hand in there! Come here at once! Go see what the problem is.”
A small man with a puffy pink face emerged from a nearby storage shed, holding a thick, coiled rope. He hastened toward Leyzarov with a serious look on his face. For many years Kirilo had worked on the Olivinski manor, tending the animals. Almost every day, he, together with the collies, had herded the cattle out to the lushest pasturelands on the far side of the Stryy. If anyone knew anything about farm animals, it was Kirilo.
“Kirilo,” Leyzarov said brusquely, “bring me that black bull with the large curled horns, the one that’s causing all the trouble in the barn.”
“You mean Caesar?”
“Caesar?” Leyzarov gave a sidelong glance. “Is that what you call him? What kind of name is that for a bull?” Then with authority, “Bring him to me.”
Kirilo obeyed immediately. He had barely disappeared behind the barn doors, when Leyzarov called out, “Cornelius Kovzalo! The black bull is yours.”
At the sound of these words a voice broke frantically from the crowd. “No!” It belonged to Timushka, who was violently shaking her head. “Don’t give the bull to Cornelius. Tell me it isn’t so! That bull’s a prizewinner. You can’t waste such a fine animal on a worthless scoundrel like Cornelius. How will he ever take care of him? A bull needs a lot of attention, not to mention a proper diet. What’s a moujik going to do with a bull like that? Give Cornelius a chicken instead!”
Zachary Buhai, who had been standing behind Timushka, snarled at her, gritting his teeth. “Do you have a problem with moujiks? Do you think we’re just a pile of dirt? You’re ignorant and stupid. Don’t you realize that now we live in a time of equality and that the new regime is fair to all, even to us moujiks?”
“Hey, Timushka!” another voice picked up. “What the devil brought you out here today, anyway? You’re better off than most. Don’t you have enough?”
Timushka turned red with rage. She placed her hands on her hips and took a step forward. “Are you suggesting I came here to beg? I worked hard all my life and at least now I have something to show for it, not like the rest of you lazy good-for-nothings.”
“Look!” A man’s voice ripped across the yard. Everyone looked to where he pointed. A broad, muscular animal as black as coal with short stumpy legs and a prominent hump, was being led out of the barn.
Timushka kept it up. “Don’t give the bull to Corny! What’s he going to do with such a fine specimen? Give it to someone else. Why not to — to — Buhai? If anyone deserves it, it’s Buhai. Yes, give it to Buhai. Better Buhai than Cornelius.”
Someone else responded, “What a good idea! Buhai and Caesar, those two were made for each other. The bull’s horns stick out of the sides of his head just like Buhai’s ears. And look how he kicks up his heels. Just like Buhai! Hah! Hah! Hah! Give the bull to Buhai!”
“Quiet everyone, quiet!” Leyzarov shouted. He looked at the bull and turned to the crowd. “People, before us stands Caesar, a fine bull of the best lineage. But Caesar? What kind of name is Caesar? I will tell you what kind of name Caesar is, it’s a totally unacceptable one. It is a bourgeois name given him by a bourgeois master. I hereby rename him Striker.”
Almost at once there was an outbreak of cheering. Caps were hurled into the air and whistling came from all sides as the bull’s new name was chanted over and over. “Striker! Striker!”
There was so much racket that Caesar became confused and agitated, and swung his massive body from side to side. Soon he started snorting and kicking up his heels. Tensing his strong neck muscles and panting wildly, he aimed his horns and made for the mob. People panicked, screaming and shouting and running in all directions. At that moment Kirilo jumped in and, skillfully catching hold of the rope around the bull’s neck, managed to restrain the animal. The crowd breathed a sigh of relief.
“And why are you still swishing your tail around and kicking up your heels, Striker?” Kirilo looked the bull in the eye and stroked his nose. “What’s wrong, you can tell me.” But the bull only flicked his head and grunted. Kirilo turned to Leyzarov. “Excuse me, comrade, but as you can see the bull is restless. He doesn’t understand when I call him Striker. I don’t think he likes his new name.”
Leyzarov frowned, considerably irritated. He avoided looking at Kirilo and, acting as though he didn’t hear him, focused his attention on Cornelius who was now standing beside him. Placing his hand on Cornelius’s shoulder, Leyzarov addressed the crowd, his voice filled with emotion.
“People, I have an announcement to make. This man standing next to me here has been most devoted to the worker’s cause and has suffered greatly under Polish oppression. As a result, I hereby proclaim Cornelius Kovzalo, our loyal Village Chairman, the new owner of Striker.”
Taking hold of the animal’s rope, with great formality, he handed it to Cornelius and said, “Cornelius Kovzalo, Striker is yours.”
“No, no!” Timushka couldn’t accept this. “What did Corny ever do to deserve such a fine bull? Why, he’s nothing more than a common horse thief. The bull should go to Buhai! Better Buhai should get the bull than Corny. Look, Buhai’s standing right over there!”
“Shut up, you old busybody,” Buhai snarled at her. “Stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. What do you know about bulls anyway? You should keep your big mouth shut. You should stay in the kitchen where you belong.”
The truth of the matter was that Buhai wanted to keep as far away from the bull as possible. He knew it was not just an ordinary bull but a fighting bull, and fighting bulls were known to be short-tempered and quick to charge. To own an animal like that would be nothing but trouble, and trouble was something Buhai did not need. He spouted a few more choice words at Timushka but stopped short when Leyzarov addressed the crowd again.
“People, allow me to say a few words about Cornelius Kovzalo, our Village Chairman. Cornelius Kovzalo, as you all know, has shown signs of great courage. He has never hesitated to defend our glorious Soviet Empire, even while under the oppressive Polish occupiers. How he has suffered! The Poles put him in prison and punished him for defending our great national cause. For two years he sat in the Bereza Prison, cold and hungry, and never gave up hope. Now the reign of terror has come to an end and before you stands Cornelius Kovzalo, a true hero!”
“You mean horse thief!” Timushka’s voice rang out.
“Don’t you ever shut up, you old baba!” Buhai was at the end of his rope. What he feared most was that with her mindless babble, Leyzarov might be persuaded to change his mind and grant Caesar to him instead of to Cornelius. And that was something he wanted to avoid at all costs. He was determined to put a stop to her right then and there. Coming from behind and grabbing her by the neck, he pushed her through the crowd and kicked her into the road. Timushka fought back, screaming at the top of her lungs. But Buhai wouldn’t let up. With great force he twisted her arms and drove her into a roadside ditch, where she landed headfirst in the mud. Lifting herself up almost immediately, she turned on a group of men standing nearby, “You call yourselves men! Men, hah! You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, all of you, letting that ruffian get away with such brutality! He used to be a respectable seaman and now look what’s become of him, nothing more than a woman beater. Cowards, all of you!”