Chapter 2
Tanya walked down a long grey corridor. The grey was not uniform, but rather swirled around her in a moving, shifting pattern. Shadowy figures called out to her, stretching out supplicating arms, there one moment, insubstantial the next.
‘Come, Tanya,’ they cried in voices like the wind. ‘Come.’
‘It’s Gerda, Tanya. Come with me.’
Tanya tried to find her way out of the corridor, tried to find her way to her sister and mother waiting for her, just out of reach, but something seemed to hold her back. It was as though her feet took her forward towards the point of light at the end of the darkness, whether she willed it or not. Sometimes she struggled, sometimes she just let herself be carried forward, but the light remained steadfast in front of her. Suddenly, she was tired of the endless grey, and a passion arose in her to see again bright colours, to smell the scent of flowers, to feel the sun on her face. As the passion grew, so did the light, until it began to disperse the grey shadows fleeing before its onslaught. The light became brighter and brighter, until she had to shut her eyes to protect them from the glare. When she opened them again, she stared around her in astonishment, for she found herself in even stranger surroundings.
She was lying on a stone ledge cut into a rocky wall, covered with a pile of furs. She was in some kind of cave, large and airy with a covering of moss on the floor and odd pieces of furniture scattered around. Towards the opening, a fire burned, and over it hung a large pot from which a most delicious smell wafted. Tanya’s nostrils quivered, and she tried to sit up. Panic gripped her. She was straining every muscle, but she could not move! She couldn’t even lift her head.
‘Where am I?’ she tried to say, but only managed a dry croak.
‘Ah, my child, you are conscious at last. May Saint Peter be praised. I had my doubts that you would ever return to the land of the living.’
Tanya gathered all her strength and managed to turn her head towards the quavering voice, and her eyes dilated with fear.
A tall, painfully thin man loomed over her, his head on one side like a bird. He wore peasant clothes, but gathered around his shoulders hung a huge cloak, liberally embellished with the feathers of many varieties of birds, enhancing his birdlike appearance. Her eyes travelled up to his face, and some of her fear left her. The expression on the lined old face was one of great sweetness, the eyes that twinkled down at her of that shade of blue most commonly seen in sailors who have spent a lifetime searching far horizons. They seemed to see right inside her, searching out her soul. His hair was pure white and straggled down to his shoulders.
Becoming aware that she was staring open-mouthed at the man, she flushed, and once again tried to sit up.
‘No, no, my child, you must rest. That is what you need now more than anything. Rest, and plenty of good food – and iron. Yes, yes, iron is what you need to make your blood thick and rich again.’
Nodding his head, he hopped over to the pot, gave it a stir, and then ladled some of the contents into a bowl.
‘First, you must eat. By the Holy Martyr, you are all skin, bone, and eyes.’
He put an arm beneath her shoulders and raised her up, spooning the broth into her mouth.
‘Come on now, eat it up, every drop. It will make you strong again.’
Tanya swallowed the broth ravenously and then obediently drank the contents of the goblet he held to her lips. It smelled strange, and she wrinkled her nose.
‘Ah, ’tis not the sweetest mixture, but it will make you better very quickly. Iron and herbs, iron and herbs.’
Tanya sank back down with a sigh, and almost immediately slept again, but this time, it was a deep, normal sleep undisturbed by dreams.
When she awoke, she felt immeasurably stronger and even managed to struggle up a little, to take further stock of her surroundings.
It was dark now, but inside the cave, a smoking torch thrust into a bracket in the rock gave a fitful light. In the far corner, the old man hovered over a jumble of phials and bottles, some bubbling and giving off a pungent odour. Tanya stared in amazement and crossed herself nervously.
‘Who are you?’ she demanded and was surprised at how strong her voice sounded now. ‘Are you . . . are you a witch, or a warlock?’
A superstitious shiver ran up her back as she asked the question, and the old man chuckled.
‘No, child, I’m neither. Just an old hermit who likes to live alone out here in the woods, picking my herbs and making medicines to help the sick. Now spring is here, they grow fast, and I can start my work again.’
‘Spring!’ exclaimed Tanya. ‘I don’t understand. How long have I been here? What happened to . . . ?’
‘Peace, child,’ cried the old man sharply. ‘All your questions will be answered when the time is right. You have been very ill, little one, and have been as one dead for over a month. I have only managed to keep you alive by forcing my medicines through your lips, and thank God at least you swallowed them. It brings joy to my old heart to see the colour back in your cheeks again and to hear you speak.’
‘But how did I get here? My mother and sister will be frantic with worry, they will . . .’ She broke off and fell back against the pillows, holding her hands out as though to ward off the memories that flooded back, that danced in her brain like so many goblins, all those red-coated Cossacks.
‘Oh Holy Mother, I don’t want to remember,’ she cried brokenly. ‘Can you not let me forget?’
‘Do not torture yourself, child.’ The gnarled old hands imprisoned her restless ones, and compassion shone from his eyes. ‘The memories will fade. I know you find that hard to believe now, but fade they will.’
‘Are . . . are they all dead?’ Her voice was low and quivered with pain. ‘Please tell me – I must know the truth.’
‘I buried three bodies, little one,’ he replied. ‘A young maiden with long fair hair, another two female but unrecognisable, I’m afraid. It is all I can tell you. Yes, weep, weep, tears are the best remedy of all. I will take you to their graves once you are stronger, and you may say your farewells.’
And Tanya wept – a long and anguished weeping that left her exhausted, with no more tears to shed. She wept for her childhood, gone for ever with those she loved, and for the useless cruelty of man to man. Finally, dry eyed and drained, she sat up and stared at the old man wildly.
‘Curse them!’ she screamed in a high, unnatural voice. ‘Curse them all. What right have they to take lives that way? I’ll have my revenge, I swear it, I’ll kill every Russian I can get my hands on – and Tsar Peter, too, I’ll even kill him, do you hear me?’
Her voice died away, and she fell back, panting. The old man’s face was sad.
‘An eye for an eye,’ he quoted. ‘Once I too believed in that, but I have found out to my cost that it solves nothing. Every man is some mother’s son, or father, or lover. I had a wife and son once. We were serfs to a noble lord in Russia. One day, on a whim, he had them both whipped to death in front of my eyes. Said they hadn’t bowed low enough when he passed by. My son was only six.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ Tanya stared at him, horrified. ‘Whatever did you do?’
‘I felt then just as you do now. I bided my time, and when the opportunity arose, I killed him, and then I ran away. Only as I was hiding in, one of his barns, his young son rode past, and I realised I had deprived him of his father. I was stricken with remorse and vowed then never to kill again. I have kept that vow. Finally, I came to this place, and I have stayed here ever since, making friends with the birds and animals, and helping those who come to me for help. I have even gained some small reputation for my herbal remedies.’
A memory tugged at Tanya’s mind of Dakov’s wife telling her mother of a hermit who lived in the woods who had cured her youngest of a fever. Even as she remembered, the thought of that child’s lifeless body momentarily blotted out all other memories, and she shivered.
‘Well, I don’t blame you for killing that man,’ she said simply. ‘He couldn’t have been much of a father, a wicked man like that.’
‘Perhaps, child, but it was not my place to deprive him of his right to live. One day, you will think as I do, when your blood no longer runs hot. Until that time, what, I wonder, are we to do with you?’
‘May I not stay with you for a while?’ Tanya gazed at him appealingly. ‘I have nowhere else to go, no relatives or friends – apart from you. And I haven’t even thanked you for saving my life, or even asked your name. I do thank you, with all my heart. I am Tanya de la Verrière, and I hope one day to be able to repay you for your kindness.’
The old man’s face softened as he looked down at her flushed face. ‘Welcome, Tanya de la Verrière. You may stay for as long as the fancy takes you. I am called Sten’ka, the only name I have ever had. You will be company for an old recluse, but I fear you will soon become lonely.’
‘As far as I’m concerned, I don’t care if I never see another human being again,’ declared Tanya violently. ‘Not after my experiences with them of late.’
Sten’ka smiled sadly. ‘How old are you, child?’
‘Thirteen – almost fourteen,’ replied Tanya defensively. He shook his head. ‘So young, so very young. Ah well, you will change, little Tanya, as you grow older.’
‘Never!’ declared Tanya decisively.
The following months were a healing balm to Tanya’s shattered life. After she had visited the rough graves of her lost family, she felt some sort of peace, although the pain in her heart she knew would never really leave her. She and Sten’ka grew very close, he becoming the father she had never known, and she the child he had lost.
Her days were spent wandering the forest, gathering the various herbs Sten’ka showed her, learning how each one cured a different ailment. She was introduced to some of his animal friends, watching in amazement as he fondled the big, shaggy bears that lumbered through the trees; even the birds came to him quite fearlessly, perching on his head and singing. The only animals she avoided were the wolves, for Sten’ka had told her they could never be trusted, and some inner fear prevented her from approaching them.
She became almost like a wild young animal herself, flitting silently from tree to tree, moving with a lithe grace. Gradually, the horrors of the past began to fade, although some deep scars would remain with her for ever.
She spent the long summer evenings teaching Sten’ka how to write his name in the dirt and reading to him from one of the mildewed books he had contrived to find for her. Mostly, they would sit and talk. He told her of his childhood in Russia and of Moscow, where he had been born. He had grown up there, until sold to the noble lord who had later been the cause of such sorrow in his life.
He described in vivid detail the domes and spires of the churches of that fabulous city, of the twisting lanes around the square gardens, and Red Square itself with its market stalls and street vendors. He told her of the fantastic painted palaces of the Boyar noblemen and of the desperate poverty suffered by the majority of its inhabitants. Tanya would sit curled up, listening with wide eyes to his tales of the savage splendour of Russia and its peoples. She in turn would tell Sten’ka of her childhood and of her mother’s life before her marriage.
‘So you have noble blood, Tanya,’ Sten’ka had said when he first heard of her father. ‘I was sure you must have by the way you hold up your head and look the world in the eye. Never let them take that away from you, little one.’
When the nights drew in and the cold wind swept down from the north, they collected firewood and stored up dried fruit and nuts, competing for them with the squirrels. Tanya baked black bread from the little rye they managed to grow, and somehow they managed to survive the long, hard winter.
When the days were warm, Sten’ka showed her how to collect the wild honey without disturbing the bees, and she would bathe every day in the cool water of the nearby spring.
It was in its clear depths that Tanya saw herself grow from a child to a woman. She would bend over the water and brush her hair, marvelling at the changes wrought by nature in her young body, impervious to the fact that all the promise she had never been able to see in herself had been fulfilled. Hers was that rare kind of beauty that does not dim with age, ethereal and elusive. Her skin was like the wild roses that grew amongst the trees, her emerald eyes, huge and somehow luminous against its delicate hue. Her long, copper-coloured hair curled naturally down her back in wild abundance, and her budding womanhood showed itself in the high little breasts, tiny waist, and long, shapely legs. Her noble lineage could be seen in her classic features and perfect bone structure.
Sten’ka, now grown even more bent and frail, would sit and study her sometimes, with a worried frown between his eyes.
‘You are too beautiful, Tanya, no good will come of it,’ he would mutter beneath his breath. ‘No man will ever look at you and not want you.’
When Tanya asked him what he meant, her wide, candid gaze fixed on his face, he would shake his head and subside.
Tanya was worried about Sten’ka. Every day, the old man seemed to shrink a little, losing his breath more easily and never venturing far afield from the cave. She took more and more of the heavy work upon herself, scolding him when he demurred.
He looked at her with his head on one side, the kind old eyes dimmed and sad.
‘Winter draws in, little one, and my time is near, I can feel it in my bones. What will become of you when I am gone? I should have made some provision for you, not been so selfish as to keep you here with me. I should have found a home for you in the town, with a woman to show you how to go on in the world. You are so young, so vulnerable. How will you manage? Where will you go?’
Tanya leapt to her feet, shaking her head. ‘I won’t have you talking like that. You aren’t going to die, Sten’ka, I won’t have it.’
He smiled sadly at her imperious tone. ‘When you are young, you think you can bend the world to your every whim, but you will learn, child. All of us die, and I know my time is drawing near.’
Tanya sat rigid until she could hear Sten’ka’s breathing gradually become regular and deep, and she knew he was asleep. Although she refused to accept his words, somewhere deep down inside her, she knew he was right, and she felt frightened, and very alone. Outside, the moon had risen, and she suddenly felt a need to be outside, to run and run through the woods until she dropped. Impulsively she jumped up, and with one backward glance at the frail form huddled beneath the worn blanket, she stepped outside, sniffing the air like some strange wild animal. For a moment, she stood, poised for flight, then she began to run. Twisting and turning between the trees, she ran on and on until her breath was sobbing and she could go no further. She collapsed on to a tree stump, panting. When her heart stopped thumping, she looked around her. She had come further than she thought; the trees here were thinning out, and the place was unfamiliar to her. It was a strange feeling, sitting there in the deathly hush of the forest, with the moon sailing overhead in the vast black dome of the sky. She threw her head back and closed her eyes, bathing in the silver brilliance as though worshipping some strange god.
The peace that was gradually replacing her earlier anxiety was rudely shattered by a twig cracking loudly quite close to her. She opened her eyes, then froze, terrified. A man was standing quite still, only a few paces away, staring at her with an expression she hardly understood but which sent a prickle of fear down her back. He was a rustic, simple-looking fellow with a vacuous look about him and a slack, wet mouth, but it was the look in his eye that held Tanya rigid. For a few moments, neither of them moved and then he suddenly held out his hand.
‘Come, little fairy, little sprite,’ he chanted. ‘Fedor won’t hurt you. You shall come home with Fedor and bring him luck, eh?’
His voice broke the spell. With a frightened cry, Tanya leapt to her feet and fled. She could hear him thundering along behind her, but soon, she was back in familiar surroundings, and nobody but Sten’ka knew these woods better. She twisted and turned between the trees, and soon the sound of pursuit died away. She slowed to a trot, glanced over her shoulder, then hurried on towards the safety of the cave. Sobbing for breath, she sank on to her bed and buried her face in her hands. The encounter had frightened her considerably, first because it had been so long since she had seen anyone other than Sten’ka, but mostly because of the look on the man’s face. She might be quite innocent, but even Tanya had been able to recognise the naked lust staring out from his eyes. She shuddered at the memory and turned her troubled eyes towards Sten’ka. If what he had said was true, how would she survive? Apart from the grief she hardly dared think about, she acknowledged that she had grown almost totally dependant upon him, and the thought of suddenly having to fend for herself was terrifying.
She must have drifted into sleep, for the next thing she knew she had awoken with a jump, staring up into the darkness, heart pounding. What had awakened her? Had she heard a noise?
She strained her ears, but only silence filled them.
‘Nerves,’ she muttered beneath her breath, preparing to lie down again. ‘Just nerves.’
‘Tanya.’ It was only a whisper on the edge of her consciousness, but it brought her upright again. ‘Tanya.’
For a moment she froze; her heart beating so loudly she felt sick, then with an overwhelming sense of relief, she realised it was Sten’ka’s voice calling her. She fumbled with a candle, lit it, and crossed the room to the old man’s side.
‘What is it, old friend?’ she asked tenderly, smoothing back the hair from his forehead. His skin felt clammy and cold, and her heart sank. ‘Do you wish for something?’
His hand came up and grasped hers convulsively.
‘Tanya, I knew you would come, I knew you would not fail me.’
‘What is it you want, Sten’ka, what can I do for you?’
‘Just to have you near me, child, to hold your hand. Your touch drives away the darkness for a while. I can’t see you, but I can feel your presence. I don’t want to die alone in the dark, without a priest to grant me absolution, and I have many sins, so many sins upon my head.
Tanya gripped his hand harder, a lump in her throat.
‘God knows you are not a bad man, Sten’ka,’ she whispered huskily. ‘Trust in him, he knows what you really are, a good and kind man.’
The flickering candlelight showed the expression of peace that descended on his face. ‘Thank you, my child. I have had a long life, and your coming into it brought sunshine into my last years. How I would have hated to die alone, and it is so dark. If only I could see your face one last time.’
Weeping now, Tanya bent over him, her hair falling around her. She held the candle closer to her face, and his eyes met hers for an instant, a light shining from them.
A sudden chorus of birdsong made her lift her head, and through the mist of tears, she saw a pale light creep into the cave. ‘Look, Sten’ka, the dawn is coming,’ she cried, hope flaring within her. ‘You will get better now, I will tend you, and . . .’
She broke off, staring down at him. His eyes had closed, and he was no longer breathing. He looked very peaceful, and the half smile on his lips gave him a look of contentment.
Tanya’s mind went blank, and she was still crouched beside him, holding his hand tightly when the sun had risen quite high. The cramp in her legs slowly brought her back to reality, and she looked around her with the dazed eyes of a sleepwalker. Passing her hand across her eyes with a pathetic little gesture, she rose painfully to her feet.
Still moving automatically, her mind numb, Tanya crossed Sten’ka’s hands on his breast and wrapped him up in his blanket and colourful cloak, then in the entrance to the cave, she painfully dug a grave, scooping out the soil with a piece of wood with her bare hands. His body felt strangely light as she laid it to rest, and the tears still did not come as she slowly covered it with earth and leaves, then a few slabs of rock to keep the wild animals at bay. She placed a crude wooden cross fashioned from two sticks of wood on the grave and sat back on her heels.
‘Sleep, Sten’ka,’ she whispered softly. ‘Sleep, old friend, this is where you belong. I know God will forgive you your sins.’
Sitting back on her heels she looked around, wondering vaguely what she should do now. She felt empty, lost, and very lonely.
For the next couple of days, she brooded around the cave, never moving far from the graveside, trying to instil some purpose into her life, to decide what she should do, but she could not bring herself to leave, somehow. By the evening of the second day, she was feeling light-headed through lack of food and sleep and, when she first heard the voices, thought they were part of the strange world into which she felt herself drifting, but gradually, they impinged on her consciousness until she realised that the rough masculine tones were no part of her dream world.
Fear made her move swiftly and silently in the direction of the voices. It was sheer good fortune that she saw them before they saw her. Drawing back behind a tree, she listened furtively, and then risked a quick look. Her heart thumped and a trembling ran along her body. It was the man who had come across her in the clearing the other night. He was speaking to his two companions in rough, passionate tones.
‘I tell you it’s true, I did see the fairy, back there on that tree stump she was sitting, worshipping the moon.’
A roar of coarse laughter interrupted him, and he scowled.
‘Laugh all you want, but I know what I saw.’
‘There have been rumours,’ interposed one of the other men, scratching his head. ‘You remember those woodcutters who swore they saw a young girl running through the trees?’
‘She was so beautiful,’ murmured the first man. ‘I’ve never seen such beauty. She had hair like fire, all down her back, and she was only dressed in a sort of shift. Her breasts were standing out beneath it, and her legs were long and bare.’
The sweat was breaking out on his forehead as he spoke, and his eyes bulged. He ran his tongue over his lips.
‘She was up and away before I could stop her. I haven’t been able to get her out of my mind since. That’s why I didn’t come alone, in case she put the evil eye on me.’
The other men exchanged glances, impressed despite themselves.
‘Which way did she run?’ asked a tall, lanky youth.
‘Why, that way,’ he replied and, to Tanya’s horror, seemed to be pointing directly at her.
She turned and fled, expecting to hear sounds of pursuit behind her, but there was none. She sped back to the cave and looked around wildly. It could only be a matter of time before she was discovered, and she dreaded to think what would happen to her then. The memory of Dakov’s daughter lying in the snow, and Gerda’s terrified cries burned into her brain, and she shuddered.
‘I have to get away from here,’ she muttered beneath her breath. ‘Far away. But where?’
She gathered her few belongings together, wrapped herself around with her shawl, and collected the last few nuts and berries from the depleted store. Pausing in the cave entrance, she looked down at the grave, tears pricking her eyes.
‘Goodbye, Sten’ka, dear old friend,’ she whispered. ‘I know you won’t mind my leaving you, for you once said my destiny was not here, but somewhere far away. Perhaps you were right. Farewell.’
She took one last long look around the cave, then pulling her shawl around her shoulders, set off into the dusk, striding out and resisting any impulse to look back. Her life here was finished, and she must look forward now to whatever the future might bring her.