Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Eight
A nna assembled her drawing materials and closed her eyes to test herself. The first picture would be of Sofia and Sasha’s reunion. Could she remember it well enough to convey the poignancy of that moment? Yes, she could see every detail – the vertical line of Sasha’s body broken by the arch of Sofia’s back as she knelt to kiss his chains. It was all there, vivid in her memory.
She began a new sketchbook and prepared the first page with a grey wash. There could be no mistakes and the picture was strongly in her head. She worked with long, swift strokes using a wolf-hair brush tapered to a fine point. Obscure figures were visible in the background, but the emphasis was on Sofia and Sasha. Splintered dashes marked her brother’s tall frame, and the scene was lit from the side so that half his face was in shadow and Sofia’s hidden by the fall of her hood. Anna added black cross-hatching to the top and sides so that the walls seemed to lean inwards, creating a sense of claustrophobia. Sasha and Sofia stood in the light yet were locked in darkness.
She would do a drawing a day, Anna decided, each one taking up a single page of the book. Some would be from memory – Sasha and Sofia, the prisoners returning from work in an open cart and the small group of women waiting at the gates in the bitter cold. Others would be portraits of people whom she could observe. She drew Maria reading a book with a view of the prison through the window, and Sofia and Katyusha sewing. Her subjects were immobilised in poses that gave an impression of them being imprisoned in time and space. Anna had never worked like this before, using her emotions to create atmosphere rather than striving for a likeness. When she woke up in the night, she wrapped herself in blankets and drew by candlelight. Images came easily now, sharp on the surface of her mind. There was a feeling of dereliction in them – the prisoners’ emaciated figures and bleak surroundings – as if they existed on the edge of oblivion.
When she finally blew out the candle and went to bed, Anna fell asleep at once, then rose with the daylight and carried on. Her drawing took on an urgent, feverish quality. If she never painted again, this would be her most important work. It didn’t matter that her hands were clumsy and some of the images hurried. She would keep going until there was no more paper and, when the sketchbook was complete, Maria would somehow get it to Pushkin.
Anna was so occupied with the work, she forgot her household duties and failed to notice they were running short of wood. Late one afternoon, the stove went out and she found only a couple of logs left in the pile. The light in the room was fading and the sky dark with snow clouds as she carried them inside. Sofia lit a taper. A blue skim of flame raced across the paper and the wood caught light but there wasn’t enough to keep them warm through the night.
‘I must go to the stables and hope Anton’s remembered.’
‘But it’s already dark. Is there nothing else we can burn?’
Anna shook her head. She warmed her gloves and foot cloths on the stove before putting them on, then pulled on her boots. Sofia made the sign of the cross over her before she went out. People were staying indoors and the streets were deserted. She shouldn’t have left it so late. She pulled her scarf closer over her mouth and nose so only her eyes visible, but she couldn’t walk fast enough to keep warm. When the sled runner stuck on a ridge, she jerked the rope so hard she slipped and almost fell.
Anna tasted ice flakes on her lips. ‘Not far now,’ she said under her breath. ‘Don’t let there be a blizzard or I’ll never find my way back.’ The temperature was dropping and silence gathered around her as she picked her way through snowdrifts. Cold numbness spread up her arms and she batted her hands together, her gloves making a muffled, ghostly sound. Straightening her spine, she lifted her head on her aching neck and forced herself on until she could see the old stable with its sunken roof. As she came closer, a figure came away from the wall. A man in a fur cap with a lantern slung over his arm stepped into her path. Anna stopped dead, her fist tightening around the rope. Then he lifted the lamp and she saw Anton’s face.
‘I waited for you yesterday.’ Scarves muffled his voice.
‘Spasibo … thank you. We ran short of wood. I meant to come earlier.’
‘Can I help you?’
‘Do you have time? Are you off duty?’
‘For an hour only.’
‘Then please come home with me. We’ll give you something to eat.’
Anton heaved the logs onto the sledge and tied them securely with ropes. Anna followed in his footsteps as he pulled their precious cargo. It was snowing hard as they approached the cabin and its windows were bright with light. Sofia must have lit at least ten candles. What was she thinking? They barely had enough to last out the month.
‘It seems you have guests. Another time, perhaps.’
Anna wanted to thank him, but Anton turned away and disappeared into the blizzard. Panting with the weight of the laden sledge, she dragged it up the steps and left it in the porch. She pulled her scarf down from her face and stepped across the threshold, bolting the door behind her. When she turned round, her breath caught in her throat.
Maria and Katyusha were hovering near the stove and Sofia was kneeling beside a man lying on a stretcher on the floor.
‘There was an accident in the mine.’ Maria spoke first.’ Captain Dashkovy’s injured. I persuaded the commandant to have him brought here so that Sofia could attend to him.’
Anna stared first at her, then at Peter.
‘What happened? How … how badly is he hurt?’ she stammered as she took off her coat and removed her boots.
‘A shaft collapsed and he was crushed beneath it. He’s broken his leg.’
Maria moved out of the way and Anna went over to Sofia who was looking down as she held a cup to Peter’s lips.
‘Take a small sip and swallow slowly. The sugar will restore you.’
Peter’s beard was matted and his face ashen-white. He tried to speak and Sofia hushed him. ‘Conserve your strength. We’re going to set your leg.’
‘A doctor should deal with it,’ Anna protested, not bothering to lower her voice.
‘The prison doctor’s a butcher. If we leave it to him, he’ll amputate the limb. Did you find any wood?’
‘Yes. It’s outside…’
‘We must keep the room as warm as we can.’ Sofia addressed Maria and Katyusha. ‘I’ll need two flat pieces of firewood for splints. Anna, please get me my scissors.’
Anna handed her the scissors and Sofia went on, ‘I’ve looked it up in my medical dictionary. We have to manipulate the fractured bone into alignment and then splint the leg. I’ll need your help.’
Sofia cut the trousers of Peter’s right leg and rolled the material up above the knee. The break was obvious – halfway up his shin was an ugly-looking lump surrounded by bruised skin.
‘The muscles have contracted, so we must straighten his leg. Katyusha, can you help Anna while Maria and I hold onto his thigh?’
Peter moaned and grimaced as they stretched knee ligaments, forcing his leg to its full length. Katyusha brought a bucket of ice and Sofia wrapped a handful of it in linen and pressed it to the fracture.
‘Talk to him, Anna. Don’t let him lose consciousness. It’s imperative he stays awake.’
Anna moved to crouch by Peter’s head. She dipped a square of linen into a bowl of water, wrung it out, and placed it on his forehead. After a moment, his eyes opened a fraction. ‘Do you … have brandy?’
‘Does anyone have brandy?’ Anna asked.
Katyusha produced a flask from her voluminous pocket. ‘I always carry vodka for emergencies. Will that do?’
Sofia nodded. ‘Vodka’s fine – but not too much.’
This couldn’t be happening, Anna thought, as Katyusha lifted Peter’s head and held the flask to his lips. Peter had led her to make the greatest mistake of her life – and he was here in her home! Why hadn’t they taken him to Maria and Katyusha’s cabin? Sofia could have gone there.
The medical manual was open on the floor, and her eyes narrowed as she looked down at Sofia. ‘Don’t you think you might do more harm than good?’
‘It’s a straightforward procedure. Listen to this.’ Sofia held up a diagram and read aloud. ‘To achieve alignment, the lower part of the bone must be manipulated into the correct position.’
As Sofia spoke, Peter groaned and Anna saw his body spasm. She had only eaten one piece of bread all day and she was swept by a wave of nausea.
‘Is this his only chance to walk again?’ Katyusha asked.
‘If we can manage it correctly.’
‘Then we must do our best!’ Maria was decisive.
‘Let me see the splints. Do we have plenty of bandages?’
‘I brought these from home.’ Katyusha handed Sofia a bundle of rolled bandages. ‘But firewood’s no good. We’ll have to use something else.’
Anna’s gaze searched the room. One of the table legs might suffice. She could dismantle a travelling chest, but it may not be strong enough.
‘What about a piece of wood from the bed?’
‘That’s a brilliant idea,’ Sofia answered. ‘Can you chop it up?’
Anna found a small saw and went with Katyusha to the bed. Once the end board was removed, they placed it on the ground and she cut the wood into lengths.
Maria brought a twisted cloth and put it between Peter’s teeth. ‘Bite hard on this, Captain Dashkovy. Princess Trubetskoy will hold your shoulders. Please try to keep still.’
‘You’re stronger than me, Anna. You’ll need to use both hands to grip his leg just below the break. I’ll tell you what to do.’
Sofia didn’t ask if she felt up to the task. I can’t do it, Anna thought. It’s madness. Sofia’s fragmentary medical knowledge did not qualify her as a bone-setter, but Anna saw determination in every line of her face. There was no point arguing and Anna placed both hands around Peter’s calf. She recoiled as she touched the coarse hairs on his leg, her palms so clammy she was afraid she would lose her grip.
‘Maria and I have his knee. When I say so, pull down as hard as you can. Ready? Now!’
Anna closed her eyes and pulled. She heard Peter’s stifled scream, and almost screamed herself but, when she looked again, the bone had hardly moved.
‘Good – now push upwards! Feel with your hands until the bone’s straight.’
Anna’s hands ached with the effort. She felt sweat pooling in the pits of her arms and dripping down the back of her neck. She carefully ran her thumb down Peter’s shin until she touched a jagged edge under the skin. Exerting as much pressure as she could, she manipulated the lower bone inwards and upwards.
‘That’s enough. Well done.’ Sofia came to look over her shoulder. ‘More ice, please, Katyusha. Then we’ll bandage the limb and strap on splints.’
Maria and Sofia took her place and Anna staggered to the table. She sat down on the nearest chair and clasped her hands around her head. There was a scraping noise outside – feral dogs hunting for food. She should bang the door to chase them away, but she was too tired to move.
Katyusha came over and handed her the flask of vodka. ‘You look as if you could do with some of this.’
Anna took the bottle, tilting the neck into her mouth. The spirit burned her throat and she took a second gulp, managing a faint smile. ‘Thank you.’
‘There’s no more we can do for now.’ Sofia fanned her face with her handkerchief as she stood up. ‘Let’s make some tea. We deserve it.’
Sofia looked exhausted, Anna thought. As soon as Maria and Katyusha left, they would eat something and go to bed. The samovar came to the boil and Katyusha was pouring out tea when there came a hard rapping at the door. The four women looked at each other. Who could possibly be calling so late? The knocking sounded again and Maria rose to her feet.
‘I’ll deal with it. You drink your tea. Who’s there?’ she shouted through the closed door.
‘Colonel Bernashev sent us to collect the prisoner.’
Maria’s strained face took on a new expression, one of irritation and disdain. ‘Captain Dashkovy’s extremely ill. Come and see for yourselves, if you must. Be quick about it. We don’t want to freeze to death.’
As Maria opened the door, a blast of cold air came into the room that made the candles gutter and spit.
‘The man’s unconscious,’ she continued in the same imperious tone as two guards entered and removed their hats. ‘If you insist on moving him to the prison he will die. Colonel Bernashev won’t thank you for a fatality.’
Peter lay so still Anna was sure he had fainted. The soldiers seemed at a loss, standing awkwardly by the door, and Maria pressed home her advantage. ‘Well, now that you’re here, make yourselves useful. We’ll need to light a fire in the stove next door and carry Captain Dashkovy through. He can’t share the ladies’ quarters. You’ll find plenty of wood outside.’
What in God’s name was Maria doing? Anna wondered. They had enough wood to last a few days – but only for one stove.
Seeing her expression, Sofia said quietly, ‘Don’t worry. God will provide…’
And if He doesn’t, what then? I’ll have to go find more, Anna thought, resentment twisting in her gut. Anton won’t always be there to help me. Don’t they understand what a struggle it is? If he recovers, it will mean another mouth to feed – as if I don’t have enough already! Exhaustion, combined with disquiet at Peter’s presence, frayed her temper and she stood up.
‘I’m going to lie down,’ she announced to anyone who might be listening. ‘There’s soup, if you’re hungry.’
Sofia nodded. Anna went through and stretched out on the hard bed. The sound of voices and the tread of boots drifted through the curtain as she pulled the blankets and bearskin up to her chin. Peter Dashkovy’s not my responsibility, she thought, as she closed her eyes. I don’t want to look after him. He was the one who led Sasha into danger. I wish he had never come into our lives.
*
A hand nudged her shoulder and Anna opened her eyes to find Sofia with a candle in one hand and a cup in the other.
‘I brought you some tea.’
‘What time is it?’
‘Past seven. I was worried about you.
Seven in the morning? How could she have slept so long? Anna was bemused. ‘Have you been up all night?’
‘I dozed by the fire… Maria and Katyusha went home after Captain Dashkovy was moved. They’re coming back this morning. I’ve made porridge – you must be hungry.’
‘How is he?’
‘Captain Dashkovy’s been asleep for as long as you have.’
There was no censure in her tone, but Anna regretted her mood the night before.
There was silence. Then she said, ‘I’m sorry about last night. I should have had confidence in you.’
Sofia’s face and fair curls were framed in a halo of candlelight and she smiled. ‘I wasn’t so confident myself. I think we did pretty well under the circumstances.’
‘Well, it’s your turn to rest. I’ll take over now…’
Anna drank her tea and fetched a bowl of warm water. It was still dark as they took turns washing and brushing their hair. Anna’s was so long it reached below her waist. She would ask Sofia to pin it up later, but they’d have breakfast first and check on the patient; then Sofia would go and lie down.
Anna tidied up and went through to the other room. Peter was asleep on the floor, so she stoked the fire and went to stand by the window. Ribbons of light crept over the horizon. In an hour, a pale sun would rise low above the hills, and it would be another bitingly cold day.
She felt sorry for Peter, without the bitterness she had felt the night before. There was a time when being in the same room with him would have made her tremble; now her heart was still. I never loved him, she thought. I know that now. Peter flirted with me, but it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t set out to capture my heart. He was careless and I was too young to understand.
‘I’m sorry, Anna Ivanova.’
Peter’s hoarse whisper made Anna start. Could he have guessed what she was thinking? She pushed her hair back off her face and sat down on a stool beside the stretcher. His cheekbones jutted out, the pain in his eyes unmasked. There was such sadness in them that her hand dropped on his arm.
‘Don’t be sorry, Peter Igorovich.’ She spoke quietly. ‘I’m glad I was able to bring Sofia here to be with Sasha. I wish I could have done the same for you…’
‘I should have stayed in prison. What does it matter if I live or die?’
‘Don’t speak so, Captain Dashkovy!’
Sofia came through the door with a tray and Anna helped her lift Peter into a sitting position, supporting his back with cushions.
‘Thank God Maria managed to get you to us. If you feel strong enough, we’ll move you to a bed and you’ll be more comfortable.’ Sofia began feeding him small spoonfuls of kasha and warm milk.’ A wash and shave will make you feel better. Anna will stay with you until the others arrive.’
At that moment, a distinctive sound caught Anna’s attention. She moved to the wall, pressing her ear against it, listening intently. The sound was deadened by the sealed windows but grew louder as it approached until it was unmistakable – the jingle of troika bells. The others raised their heads, struck by her concentrated pose, and they too listened. No one came to Nerchinsk in a grand equipages and Anna caught Sofia’s eye.
There was a whinny of horses and jangling harnesses right outside their door. The troika had come to a halt and someone shouted an order. For an instant, Anna thought she recognised the voice. She heard footsteps coming up the steps and stood frozen until a cane tapped at the door.
‘I’d better open up and see who’s there.’ Anna gave Sofia a searching glance. ‘It must be a person of some importance.’
If only she had done up her hair and made herself more presentable! The knocking came again and she drew the bolts. As she pulled the door inwards, all the breath went out of her lungs in a gasp of shock.
Nicholas Bulgarin was standing on the threshold.
He swept off his hat. ‘The prison guards told us we might find Captain Dashkovy here. I hope we’re not too early?’
Nicholas had a black beard that accentuated the piercing blue of his eyes. His fur collar was a mass of ice and Anna looked at him, thunderstruck. She couldn’t move and stood speechless with her hand clasped over her mouth.
‘What’s all this?’ Sofia came forwards, her brow furrowing before her face broke into a smile. ‘Why, Count Bulgarin, this is an unexpected pleasure.’
Over Nicholas’s shoulder, Anna saw the driver help a stylish young lady down from the troika. She was graceful and slim, wearing a fur bonnet of the finest quality and a cloak with ermine trimming. Never in a million years had she thought Olga would come to Siberia – yet here she was in flesh and blood, right in front of her and holding out her hands as she came up the steps.