Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Four
‘ P oidi! Poidi! Onwards! Forwards!’ Ivan, their driver, shouted to his horses and Anna opened her eyes. She was tucked under a bearskin rug and Sofia was asleep beside her.
After weeks of lying horizontal in the interior of the kibitka , weariness and discomfort had taken their toll. They had begun their journey in good spirits, singing songs and reciting poems to pass the time. Now they slept as much as they could, dropping off to the sound of the runners on hard snow as they galloped across the frozen plains of Russia. Every fifteen miles they halted to change horses and one night they stayed at a korchma . The inn was dirty, with greasy tablecloths and huge tureens of cabbage soup, and crowded with merchants and soldiers drinking vodka and playing cards. The men ogled the women with blatant curiosity. Anna and Sofia took tea from the samovar and then retreated to the kibitka.
Hour after hour, the sleigh raced on towards an endless horizon and, as they headed further east, the landscape became bleak and monotonous. There were days when they saw no one, only sheets of white snow marked by the tracks of vehicles as they made their way over the steppe. They had crossed the Ural Mountains, leaving Christian Russia behind, and driven through pine forests as dark and endless as the sea, stopping at government post houses painted black and white with courtyards fenced in by sharp, pointed stakes. It was so cold, their breath turned to ice on the shawls covering their faces and the two women huddled together for warmth. One morning a crow, frozen in mid-flight, dropped like a stone from the sky beside the sleigh but no one said a word.
It felt as if they had been on the move forever but it had only been two weeks. Two weeks of being shaken and jolted until every bone in their bodies ached. To most Russians, the Urals represented the limits of civilisation. Ahead, lay the vast landmass of Siberia, an inhospitable wilderness where it was said human existence was intolerable.
They had left Moscow before dawn and Anna did not see Nicholas again. He was gone before she came down that morning and Varenka had helped with her final preparations. She showed her how to sew money and valuables into the hem of her clothes and gave her books, wool and knitting needles. She also advised her to wear a riding habit, rather than a dress, in case she had to walk in deep snow. It was pitch-dark when they departed. Varenka blessed Anna, then stood, watching from a window as the kibitka swept out through the gates.
Leaning back on her elbows, Anna touched the tips of her gloved fingers to her lips. She recalled Nicholas’s kiss with a vividness that made goose bumps rise on her skin. She didn’t want to think of him but he came into her mind whether she willed it or not, haunting her restless dreams. Whichever way she turned, he would be standing in front of her. Always too close, sometimes with a mocking smile, sometimes reaching out for her… When she thought of his dark, nonchalant face and how he had kissed her, something pinched deep in her belly. She had felt she was on fire, more alive at that moment than at any time before. What was it about him that attracted and disturbed her so much?
Anna had hoped to avoid talking about the Bulgarins, but Sofia was not to be put off. ‘I don’t understand why you’re so mysterious about them. Didn’t you enjoy your time in Moscow?’
‘Their aunt, Varenka Bulgarin, was charming and generous. She’s also an artist.’
‘And Count Bulgarin?’
Anna waited a moment before she answered. ‘He’s difficult to get to know. I liked him, but…’ Sofia was studying her inquisitively and she smiled. ‘I’m not a complete goose, Sofia! Nicholas lives on a different planet from us. He’s one of those intellectuals.’
‘Never mind that, he’s very good-looking.’
‘Maybe to some people, I suppose…’
Anna did not miss Sofia’s quick look, but refused to be drawn further. She was bewildered by her reaction to Nicholas. She didn’t love him, she told herself, but everything was muddled in her head. The past was confused, the future opaque, and the present pressed more urgently.
She shifted herself into a more comfortable position. There were a few red streaks in the sky and she could see clouds banking above the mountain summits. It was the ominous sign of a bourea, the unpredictable steppe storm so perilous for travellers, but the horses were going well. If they kept up this pace, they would get to the next village before it reached them.
‘Anna!’ Sofia shouted in Anna’s ear. ‘Please ask Ivan to stop. My legs are so painful. I have to move…’
‘We’ll soon be there. Try to hold on. We need to find somewhere to stay the night.’
They both knew the danger of inflammation to the legs and Anna twisted her neck to look at Sofia. She was sitting up and grimacing with pain.
‘There’s a storm on its way!’ Anna raised her voice. ‘We can’t stop now.’
‘Please! Only for a few minutes.’
There was desperation in Sofia’s face and Anna tugged the string of a bell attached to the driving box. The horses slowed down and came to a halt, steam pouring off their flanks as she helped Sofia to her feet. The women stood, bending their knees and swinging their arms until Ivan climbed down and lowered the leather roof over their heads.
‘How long until we find shelter? Anna asked.
‘There’s a forest up ahead. Half an hour if we’re lucky.’
‘Then we must press on!’
The whip cracked and the horses set off at a canter, but they hadn’t gone far before th e bourea came racing down the valley. Snow began piling onto the roof and the horses stumbled so the sledge lurched forwards. There was a sudden crack and Anna was afraid a runner had broken. She was relieved they didn’t slow down, but the kibitka was off balance and tilting dangerously to one side. Suddenly it tipped over with a crash. The wooden panels cracked and Sofia cried out as splinters flew through the air. Anna tried to grab hold of her and heard a thud as Sofia’s head slammed against something hard. She groaned then lay still.
Brushing dust out of her eyes, Anna took hold of her wrist and found her pulse. It was steady but Sofia was unconscious.
‘Sofia, wake up!’
Under her eyelids, Sofia’s eyes moved but stayed shut.
‘Please, darling. You must wake up!’
The slits of Sofia’s eyes widened a fraction. Anna placed her ear close her mouth and felt her breath.
‘Are you in pain. Where does it hurt?’
‘My baby…’
‘It’s alright, darling. We’ve had an accident. I’ll send Ivan to get help.’
The door opened above her head and Ivan peered down at them.
‘You must go to the village and find someone with a sledge. Madame Brianski’s been injured.’
‘But I can’t leave the horses.’
‘Of course you can! They’ll be fine.’
‘They’re terrified of the storm, devushka. They’ll take off with broken runners and—’
‘My sister’s hurt. I can control the horses. I’ve driven a troika before. You must get help, please!’
‘I can’t leave them. If they panic, they’ll drag you to your death.’
A glimmer of light came through the opening and Anna looked at Sofia. Her skin was grey and her lips drawn into a tight line.
‘How far are we from the forest?’
‘I can see lights – but you can’t go out in this!’ Ivan shouted above the wind. ‘We must dig in and wait to be rescued.’
Dear God, what shall I do? Anna cast about frantically. How could anyone find them in the storm? Sofia was hurt and Anna was terrified she might have a miscarriage. If they were forced stay here all night, she could bleed to death. Sasha had entrusted Sofia and the baby to her care. She couldn’t let her die.
A soft moan escaped Sofia’s lips and Anna leant over her. ‘Where does it hurt?’
‘In my head … in my stomach.’
‘The baby’s well protected, darling. Promise to stay still until I come back.’
‘But you can’t go alone! Wait until the storm passes.’
Sofia’s teeth were chattering and Anna pulled the bearskin rug up to her chin. She dared not touch her head, but found a warm brick and placed it under her feet.
‘I won’t be long. Here’s the bell for Ivan. When the horses are calmer, he’ll come and sit with you.’
Anna heard the tremor in her voice as she heaved on a greatcoat. It was old military issue Varenka had found, large enough to wear over layers of thick clothes, so heavy that it pulled her shoulders down. She already had on her fur-lined boots and she pulled her beaver bonnet down to cover her ears. As she climbed out of the upturned sleigh, a blast of freezing wind drove the air out of her lungs. This cold could freeze a man’s soul, she thought. Ivan’s a tough Cossack but no one can survive these conditions.
‘Once the horses are quiet, get inside and stay with my sister. Do you understand?’
Ivan nodded and handed her a thick wooden staff, pointing towards a moving light at the edge of the forest. It wasn’t so far, after all. The track was covered and the snow so deep it reached over her knees. Frost blasted down her throat as she lifted the staff and stabbed it into the snow. Holding fast, she moved slowly forwards until she had to stop and catch her breath.
Above the wind, she heard another sound – the eerie howling of wolves. There must be a pack of them, and they were close by! Anna fought to control her panic. There could be no scent in the freezing air. The bitter cold might kill them all – but it wouldn’t help predators. She took a step forwards, stumbled and lost her footing. As she put her arm out to save herself, Anna almost wrenched her shoulder from its socket. Wincing with pain, she picked herself up and floundered on.
Her heart was pumping with the effort, every step harder than the last, yet the light seemed no nearer. The cold was branching into her brain, telling her she should rest, rest until she was warm and could sleep. Snow devils began dancing and Anna imagined a fire glowing in the darkness. She longed to lie down – but she couldn’t stop or she would freeze to death. She forced her brain to work by counting each step. Ten slow paces, then ten more before she saw a flare in the trees. Her eyelashes were spiked with ice so it hurt to blink, as she made out the figure of a man carrying a torch.
‘Help! Pomogi myne ! Help me!’
Her shouts were lost in the wind and the blizzard pushed her back, but Anna could see the dark outline of a cabin and a light in the window. The sight gave her renewed strength. She staggered on, climbing the steps in a dizzying series of lurches. As she fell against the door, it opened and she collapsed across the threshold. Someone lifted her up and she was blinded by light. She tried to speak but her lips wouldn’t move and a croaking sound came from her throat. ‘Accident. Please help us… I show you…’
‘You stay here.’ A woman spoke to her in Russian. ‘Accident where?’
‘Not far…’ Anna indicated with her head. ‘By the edge of the forest.’
There were two men and the woman, whose head shawl had fallen back on her shoulders. She had an oriental face and black hair braided in pigtails. Anna was so weak she thought she would drop at her feet, but the woman grasped her arm and helped her to a bench.
‘Take the sledge and dogs.’ The woman instructed the men. ‘Go back towards the track.’
The room was lit by candles and heat from the stove made Anna’s face burn. The woman removed her gloves and rolled back her cuffs to examine her hands. They were cold but soft, not hard with frostbite.
‘You’re just in time, ‘she said. ‘We must take off your outer clothes.’
Anna’s greatcoat was frozen with ice, melting into a pool of water on the floor. The woman took it off and hung it at the back of the room. She was small and sturdy with skin like beaten leather. She removed Anna’s fur hat and then knelt down to pull off her boots.
‘ Spasibo , thank you… My sister is hurt…’
‘Quiet now. Save your strength.’
Warmth seeped into Anna’s body and tears of relief slipped down her cheeks. She looked around for an icon, to say a prayer, but the walls were bare. The inhabitants of the cabin must belong to one of the pagan tribes that roamed these parts., she thought. I don’t care what their religion is, they’re the kindest people on God’s earth.
The woman brought her a mug and held it to her mouth. Anna pursed her lips, sipping the hot tea, and blessed warmth spread through her limbs.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked.
‘Lisanka.’
‘I’m Anna… I must thank you…’
‘Wait until your sister’s safe. Is she badly hurt?’
Lisanka spread dry pine branches on the earthen floor and put rugs to warm on the stove.
‘She’s with child.’
There was the sound of dogs yelping and barking outside. Then the door opened and two men carried in a sledge. Sofia was hidden under the bearskin, not moving.
‘Here – but not too close.’ Lisanka gave instructions. ‘Be careful.’
Sofia was carried in, laid down on the rug and branches, and the bearskin was lifted off. Her skin was waxy and her lips blue. She was so still that Anna’s heart slowed as she stared at her. Sofia and the baby were dead. She had taken too long. Seized by terror, she stared around the hut. It was filling up and she could smell damp clothes. She heard men’s voices and Lisanka asked for a curtain to be placed across the room before she turned her attention to Sofia.
‘Her pulse is very weak.’ Lisanka lifted her wrist and glanced over her shoulder. ‘We must take off her clothes and warm her slowly.’
Relief flooded her. There was still a chance. With Lisanka on the other side, Anna knelt down beside Sofia. They unlaced her boots, then unbuttoned and removed her riding habit. Her underclothes were dry. Lisanka brought furs and rugs, and wrapped them around her. Her feet were frozen, and Anna began to massage them before Lisanka stopped her.
‘Warm the centre of the body first.’ Taking two bricks from beside the oven, she wrapped them in cloths, then placed one by Sofia’s neck and one to the side of her stomach.
Lisanka leant over and breathed into her mouth. Then she straightened her back and used both hands to press down on her chest. She let go and repeated the action but still there was no response. Lisanka went on, pumping and letting go, and Anna watched, willing strength into Sofia. She cradled her hands in her own until, at last, she felt a slight movement of her fingers. Lifting her eyes, Anna saw the faint rise and fall of Sofia’s shallow breathing. She was alive and her eyes were half open.
‘Anna?’ she mumbled.
‘Yes, darling. I’m here.’ Anna leant closer and kissed Sofia’s forehead. She stroked her fingers until they were warm and then helped Lisanka massage her legs in long sweeping movements towards the heart.
‘I’ll get her some tea now. My brothers are helping your driver with the horses.’
Anna saw Sofia move her arm under the covers, feeling for her stomach.
‘Does it still hurt?’
‘No – only my head hurts. The baby is quiet…’
Anna’s fingers searched gently through Sofia’s matted curls. Above her left ear she touched a hard swelling and Sofia flinched. The curtain lifted as Lisanka brought tea and she glimpsed Ivan, his beard and hair glittering white, sitting by the fire. They were all safe, thank God. She barely had the strength to hold the cup for Sofia to drink. When it was empty, she let it drop on the floor and lay down as close to her as she could get. Sofia whispered something to her, but Anna was already asleep.
She was woken by the honking of geese in flight. Sofia was snoring lightly and the yeasty smell of fresh nan bread in the oven made her stomach rumble. Her whole body was stiff and her shoulder hurt as she pulled aside the curtain. The log cabin was a single room with a bench, table and small window. There was no sign of the men. Lisanka was standing by the stove stirring a cauldron above the heat. She wore an apron made of rough homespun cloth with a kerchief tied about her head.
She looked like an old woman, Anna thought, as she rose unsteadily.
‘You will stay until tomorrow,’ Lisanka stated as Anna went to stand beside her. ‘By then your sister will be better.’
‘You saved our lives. How can we thank you?’
‘Your ancestors saved you. They want you to live.’
Anna was silent for a time. She was appalled by the wretchedness of the place and the lines of weariness on Lisanka’s face. She could see the bones of her hands, her fingers and knuckles bruised and scuffed with calluses.
‘Do you live here all the time?’
‘My brothers are woodcutters. We travel to find work but will stay here until spring. Our life is difficult – but who in Russia is happy?’ Lisanka turned her head, her honest gaze on Anna’s face. ‘We are born crying and, when we’ve cried enough, we die. In the meantime, we do the best we can.’
Anna felt her cheeks grow hot. Until this moment, she had never experienced abject poverty. All her life there had been someone to care for her. She had grown up pampered, waited upon at every step, and she had taken her cosseted existence for granted. How complacent and spoiled she had been! Those days are gone forever, she thought. Never again will I lie down in comfort and not think of people like Lisanka, and the hardship they endure every day of their lives.
Lisanka removed the cauldron from its chain and ladled hot soup into an earthenware dish. Anna was famished and drank to the last drop, wiping the bowl clean with nan.
‘The men slept with the horses. They’ll be here soon. Go and check on your sister. She may be hungry.’
Anna took a bowl of soup and found Sofia awake and sitting up.
‘How are you?’
‘My head’s sore but I just felt the baby move, thanks be to God. Anna, you were so brave.’
‘We’re fortunate to find these good people. It’s still snowing so we’ll stay here today. Ivan and the horses can have a break.’
There was faint colour in Sofia’s cheeks as she dipped the bread in her soup, chewing it slowly. ‘We must give them something for their kindness. Do you think they’ll accept money?’
*
The following day dawned bright and clear. The broken runner was replaced and the horses fed and rested. They offered to pay for their accommodation, but Lisanka and her brothers refused.
‘Thank you,’ Anna murmured as she embraced her. ‘I’ll never forget you.’
Ivan was keen to catch up lost time and the kibitka bounced over packed snow as they followed the Imperial Trakt with Asia closing in around them. The soldiers guarding the relay stations looked more Chinese than Russian, and they saw the Mongol and Buriat tribesmen dressed in reindeer skins, mounted on small shaggy ponies. As they drove across the Bratsky steppe, a chain of blue mountains was visible on the distant horizon. Beyond them lay the great inland sea of Lake Baikal and Nerchinsk where Sasha was imprisoned.
Days and nights blurred into one as they sped on. How much further? Anna wondered, every time she woke up. They were running low on provisions. How much more of this bitter cold and weariness could they bear? In just over three weeks they had crossed half a continent and entered a different world. Strange tales abounded of the people who inhabited the vast Siberia wilderness – of tribes who rode reindeer in deep, snowy forests and worshipped the storm spirits of Lake Baikal. Locked inside the kibitka, unfettered imagination and little food leant the journey a dreamlike, unreal quality, and Anna and Sofia retreated into their own thoughts as words gave way to exhaustion of mind and body.
And then, on the twenty-fourth morning of their journey, Ivan called to them and they looked out to see a skyline of cupolas skinned in turquoise, gold and green, and the turreted houses of Irkutsk. They had travelled four thousand miles and were within hours of Russia’s most easterly capital. It was the first sign of civilisation they had seen since leaving Moscow and Anna was torn between relief and apprehension.
‘Beware the extreme danger you will face if you travel beyond Irkutsk.’
The tsar’s warning rang in her brain. The sight of Irkutsk was both welcoming and deceptive. Their destination was five hundred miles further east and, once they left the city, what perils lay in wait for them? There could be no turning back then, no bright domes or turrets on the horizon, only the dark vista of an unknown future.