Red Winter (29 page)

‘Red Army,’ I agreed.

‘How many?’

‘Four hundred,’ I guessed. ‘Maybe more.’ I lifted the binoculars again. ‘Maybe a hundred on horseback and the rest on foot. I count . . . five or six
tachankas
.’ I passed the binoculars to Tanya. ‘They have Putilov guns too.’

The
tachanka
was a powerful weapon in anyone’s hands. A horse-drawn mounted machine gun that could be quickly manoeuvred and deployed without much delay. Four or five of them could be used to tear through a small force in minutes; something I had experienced first hand in Grivino when we’d been fighting the peasants of the Blue Army. Coupled with the Putilov field guns, they were devastating. The peasants had good numbers, but they didn’t stand much chance against resources like this.

Tanya shook her head and pulled her own binoculars from the saddlebag behind her. She watched for a while before passing them to Lyudmila.

‘Where do you think they’re going?’ Lyudmila asked.

‘Where do
you
think?’ I replied.

She lowered the binoculars and stared at me. ‘To kill peasants. Farmers. Men and women with pitchforks, maybe a few rifles, against machine guns.’

‘Or perhaps to stop the uprising,’ I said. ‘Not to fight
peasants
but to crush
counter-revolutionaries
. Enemies of the people. It depends which side of the fence you live on.’

‘You don’t believe that,’ Tanya said. ‘You can’t.’

I had. Once. I had believed it with all my heart. When I fought, I had fought for ideals I held dear. In the Great War, it had been for my country, to protect it from the aggressor, and then, in the revolution, I had fought for the common man. I fought for the worker, the farmer and the peasant. I fought so that my family could have a better life under a fairer regime. I wanted to protect the weak from tyranny and greed. I had been an idealist. I believed in the revolution and the new union, but I believed that there would first have to be blood if we were to build it as glorious as intended. It was vital to remove the counter-revolutionary weeds from the fertile field of our new nation before the soil was at its best and the crops could grow stout and tall. And there was a constant need for maintenance, to keep the weeds at bay. I loved my country and my leader, and I believed in the revolution and was willing to put myself forward to fight for it, just as others were prepared to fight for whatever cause it was they believed in.

So when the peasants began to hoard their grain for themselves, to hide it from the revolutionary army, I saw them as traitors. When they formed their black market and sold their crops to other peasants at high prices, I saw them as elitists taking advantage of the situation to line their own pockets. I was too steeped in revolution, too single-minded to see them as families trying to feed themselves, or as men who’d had their fill of upheaval and war, and just wanted to go home and be with their wives and children. I hadn’t understood it until I became weary and wanted the same things for myself.

Tanya was right. I didn’t really believe it. Not anymore. The peasants of Tambov, irritating though they were to the Red Army and the bearded men who sat in Moscow, might have been rebels, but they were not enemies of the people. They were just people. Men and women who wanted to be free to work on their farms, feed their children and sleep in their beds without fear of being taken away in the night or burned out of their homes.

The Red Army would crush them, though. Now it was done with the Whites, it would turn its might on the rebels, and armies like the one we were looking at now would seal the Bolsheviks’ supremacy. The free peasants would be subdued by the conscripted ones, the country would be red in more ways than one, and the men in Moscow would smile and congratulate themselves on a revolution well won.

The division had halted in the valley, but had sent outriders to scout the surrounding area – a pair was heading directly towards Dolinsk, and others were moving east and west, one pair coming right at us. Two men on horseback, Cossacks from the look of them, riding well, as all Cossacks did. They wore thick coats the colour of grain sacks but ingrained with the dirt of war and emblazoned with red stars on the cuffs. Brown boots, winter hats, rifles over their shoulders and sabres at their belts. These were professional soldiers, not conscripts. They would be a deadly opponent, well used to fighting from horseback and not afraid to kill. If they knew I was a deserter, that Tanya and Lyudmila were . . . whatever they were, the Cossacks would not hesitate to execute us.

‘I see them,’ she said before I could speak. ‘What do you want to do? Shoot them?’

‘I’m not so sure that would be a good idea.’

‘You don’t think?’ Her voice was heavy with sarcasm.

‘We should just go,’ Lyudmila said, turning her horse.

‘Go where?’ I asked. ‘We’d never outrun them. Their horses will be fit, maybe fitter than ours, and those men will be good shots.’

‘Not that good,’ Lyudmila argued.

‘Maybe not, but do you really want to take that chance?’

‘What do you suggest, then?’ Tanya asked, fixing me with those cold blue eyes. ‘What’s stopping them from taking us back to the rest of them? Or from just killing us where we are?’

‘I’ll go and talk to them,’ I said.

‘And say what?’

‘Something that will make them leave us alone.’

‘Really? What could you say that—’

‘Can I trust you to look after Anna?’ I really had no other choice, and neither did they. There was no way we could try to run.

‘She’ll be safe with us,’ Lyudmila said, and when she looked at Anna, there was the briefest moment when her sullen mask seemed to slip. Just a flash and then it was gone.

‘I want to come with you,’ Anna said.

‘It’s better if you stay here. They’ll wonder why I have a child with me. It might make them suspicious.’ I was sure I could handle the Cossacks, but not with Anna on my horse – that would raise too many questions and undermine the authority I would have to portray to these men. ‘And if they decide they don’t like me . . .’ I shook my head. ‘It’s better you stay here.’

‘Why don’t we just ride away?’ she said. ‘Kashtan will—’

‘Please, Anna. Just do as I ask.’

She gritted her teeth to show her displeasure, but swung her leg over and slid from Kashtan’s back. ‘I’m scared, Kolya.’

‘So am I,’ I whispered to her, ‘but we need to be strong.’

Anna nodded. ‘Do you promise to come back?’

‘I promise.’ I leaned down and put a hand to her face before looking at Tuzik. ‘You wait here too. Look after Anna.’

Tuzik cocked his head to one side. He knew I was talking to him, but that was all. He couldn’t be told to follow orders.

‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ Tanya asked.

‘You have a better one? Just make sure you keep your hands off your guns.’ I put my own into my belt, within easy reach. ‘Unless . . .’ I shrugged. ‘Well, you know.’

With a creak of saddle leather, I turned Kashtan and set off towards the approaching Cossacks. Tuzik sprang to his feet and followed. ‘Stay here,’ I said, pointing. ‘With
Anna
.’

To my surprise, the big dog stopped and looked back at Anna. He switched his attention a few times, from her to me, as if deciding whether or not to obey. In the end, he chose not to, and when I nudged Kashtan into a gallop, Tuzik ran after us, body low to the ground, just like a wolf.

The outriders drew pistols as they came closer, slowing their horses so we came together a good two hundred metres from where the women waited. They circled round me once and came to halt so they were on either side of me.

Tuzik stood with his muscles tensed and ready to attack, his fur bristling on his neck. His lip lifted to show his teeth and he let out a long, low growl, stirring the Cossacks’ horses. These men were good riders, almost born in the saddle, but faced with a threatening predator, their horses backed away to a safe distance.

‘Keep your dog under control,’ one of them said, and the way he moved his pistol, I knew what he meant.

‘He won’t do anything unless I tell him.’ It wasn’t true – I had no power over the dog – but though Tuzik’s presence might anger them, it might work in my favour too. He was a distraction, and a vicious dog could be as frightening as a loaded gun.

‘Are you heading for Tambov?’ I asked once they had calmed their animals.

‘Who are you?’ This man had a serious face, with a thick beard and a moustache that was turned up at the corners. He wore a sabre across his belly, clipped to an ammunition belt that circled his waist and held his coat together. He also wore cartridge bandoliers criss-crossed over his chest. His hat was thick and pulled tight on his head.

‘I’ll ask you the same thing,’ I said, turning to look at the second man.

This one had his hat pushed back and was without the array of bullets gleaming on his coat. He had a scraped chin, but his moustache was as impressive as his partner’s. His eyes, though, betrayed his fear. He didn’t take his eyes off Tuzik.

‘Who are you?’ the first man asked again. ‘Let me see your papers.’

‘Papers? You’re asking me for papers? I am Commander Krukov,’ I said, not daring to use my own name in case they had heard of my desertion, ‘operating from the Tambov Cheka.’ I glanced over my shoulder at Tanya and Lyudmila. ‘My comrades and I are working on . . . Chekist business.’ The mere mention of the work registered immediately with the two men. ‘Put your weapons away,’ I said, ‘or I will be speaking to your commander.’ I stared at him hard. ‘I will ask him to turn you men over to me right away.’

The two men shared a hesitant look. They weren’t used to being spoken to in such a way.

‘I—’

‘Let me see
your
papers,’ I said, ‘so that I know
your
names. I don’t have time to deal with your counter-revolutionary behaviour right now, but when I am done, I will come back for you. Maybe put you in a room with my dog.’

Both men looked at Tuzik and he, as if playing to his audience, raised his lip and snarled.

‘That won’t be necessary, Comrade Commander,’ said the first man, lowering his pistol. ‘I apologise for the insult. We have to check, you understand. You’re not in uniform, so—’

‘You think we always wear uniform?’

‘I thought—’

‘If we always wore our uniforms, you would always know who we are. Sometimes it is better for us to be . . . unseen.’

‘Yes, Comrade Commander.’

I looked them both up and down, showing my disdain, then I sighed and softened, letting them feel as if they’d had a lucky escape. ‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘It’s been a long day.’ An idea came to me. ‘There are other Chekists operating in this area, men I sent north with prisoners, have you seen them?’

‘No.’ The man shook his head. ‘Do they have dogs like this?’

‘You think there are other dogs like this?’

He shrugged.

‘Where are you men coming from?’ I asked.

He looked back at the army. ‘All over. Most are fresh conscripts, but many have come east from Ukraine, Poland. Some from Riga. They say we’re needed here, some kind of rebellion.’

‘All right. Well . . .’ I glanced down at his pistol. ‘You men need to get on with your jobs. Your unit is relying on you.’

‘You want us to take you to meet our commander?’

‘I don’t have time for that, and nor do you – you have a job to do.’

‘Yes, Commander.’

The two men even managed a salute, but they didn’t ride away. We were all three heading in the same direction, so they rode either side of me, as an escort. When we came closer, I saw the tension in Tanya and Lyudmila’s faces and in their body language, but when we reached them, the soldiers each raised a hand in salute again and continued past, moving up the incline towards the cluster of trees Lyudmila had wanted to run to.

Anna stood close to Tanya and Lyudmila, but there was something about her demeanour that made her seem apart from them. They were still on horseback, while she stood in the grass, arms folded, awaiting my return. I didn’t think the women were a threat to Anna, but I still hadn’t wanted to leave her alone with them. Only now, though, did I realise how torn I had been – as if something had been taken away from me. Anna and I had not been together long, but our bond was firm and now it felt right to be with her. The strength of my feelings surprised me, and it was a great relief to be reunited with her.

Both women turned as the soldiers passed, watching the Cossacks press on, scouting the area around Dolinsk.

Tuzik had escorted me back too, and while we watched the men riding away, he went to stand close to Anna, almost pushing her over as he leaned against her and allowed her to stroke his head.

‘What did you say to them?’ Tanya eyed me with suspicion as I offered my hand to help Anna.

‘Not much.’

Anna took her place in the saddle in front of me, and Tuzik trotted away into the grass to do whatever it was he did when he was alone. When I looked over at Tanya, I saw she was waiting for an answer.

‘I told them I’m a Chekist commander and that we’re on a covert operation to find counter-revolutionaries.’

‘And they believed you?’ Lyudmila came closer. ‘Why?’

‘Why wouldn’t they? They don’t know anything about me. I could be anyone.’

‘Yes, you could be.’ Lyudmila narrowed her eyes. ‘Who
are
you?’

‘I’m Kolya,’ I said. ‘I already told you that.’

Tanya watched me for a few moments longer as if she was making up her mind about something.

‘I don’t trust you,’ she said.

‘And I don’t trust you,’ I told her, ‘but we’re going in the same direction, looking for the same thing, so I don’t see that we have a choice but to stick together.’

‘We should leave them behind,’ Lyudmila said. ‘We can’t travel with someone we don’t trust.’

‘I’d rather it wasn’t this way, but it is, and we have to make what we can of it.’ I looked at Tanya when I spoke. She seemed to be the leader; she was the one who made the decisions. Lyudmila was sullen and insular, but Tanya’s emotions were more heightened. If they had any information about Koschei, I wanted to know it, and if either of them could be persuaded to impart it, I believed it would be Tanya.