The Cossacks (11 page)

“So, how long are you boys here?” one of the Cossack women asked, breaking the silence.

“We’re going back tomorrow morning,” Lukashka answered coolly.

“Well, may God grant that everything go well for you!” the old Cossack said. “I was just telling the others the same thing.”

“And so say I!” drunken Ergushov chimed in with a guffaw. “Look how many guests we have here!” he added, pointing at a soldier walking by. “The soldiers’ vodka is good—I love it!”

“I’ve been saddled with three of those devils!” one of the women said. “Grandpa’s already gone to the village council, but they say nothing can be done!”

“Aha! You’ve had trouble with them?” Ergushov exclaimed.

“Have they smoked you out of the house too with that damn tobacco of theirs?” one of the women asked. “I told them they can smoke all they want out in the yard, but not inside the house. Even if the village elder comes himself and demands I let them smoke inside, I won’t! And how do I know they won’t rob me? The village elder isn’t quartering any of them, the old devil!”

“I see you don’t like them!” Ergushov said.

“I’ve also heard tell that the girls have to make the soldiers’ beds and pour them Chikhir with honey,” Nazarka said, putting his foot forward like Lukashka and, like him, jauntily pushing back his sheepskin hat.

Ergushov laughed out loud and embraced the girl sitting closest to him.

“Get away from me!” the girl burst out. “I’ll tell your old woman!”

“So tell her!” Ergushov shouted. “What Nazarka says is true: There was a decree, and you know he can read. It’s true!” And he threw his arms around the next girl sitting in the row.

“What do you think you’re doing, you beast!” rosy, round-faced Ustenka squealed, laughing and raising her hand to hit him.

Ergushov staggered back and almost lost his balance. “And they say girls aren’t strong! You almost killed me!” he guffawed.

“I wish you’d stayed at the checkpoint. The Devil himself sent you back here!” Ustenka said as she turned away, still laughing. “You were asleep when the Chechen came—if he’d slit your throat, we’d all have been better off!”

“I’m sure you’d have wailed at his funeral!” Nazarka said, laughing.

“Yes, just as much as I’ll be wailing at yours!”

“You see, she has no heart!” Ergushov said, turning to Nazarka. “You’d think she’d wail at my death, no? What do you say?”

Lukashka was gazing silently at Maryanka, who was obviously embarrassed. “I hear they have billeted the army commander on you,” he said, moving closer.

Maryanka, as always, did not answer immediately but slowly raised her eyes and looked at the three Cossacks. There was a spark in Lukashka’s eyes as if something special, not related to the conversation, was taking place between him and Maryanka.

“At least they are lucky enough to have two houses,” an old woman answered for Maryanka. “Look at Fomushkin—they saddled him with one of the commanders. The whole place is filled with his things, and the family has nowhere to go. Has anyone ever heard of a wild horde like this let loose on a village? But what can you do? It’s as if the Black Plague had come down on us!”

“I’ve heard tell they’re going to build a bridge over the Terek,” one of the girls said.

“And I’ve heard tell that they’re going to dig a pit for all the girls who’re not nice to young men,” Nazarka crooned, sidling up to Ustenka.

Ergushov passed Maryanka, who was sitting beside the girl he had just hugged, and threw his arms around the old Cossack woman next to her.

“What, you’re not going to hug Maryanka?” Nazarka shouted. “You’re supposed to hug all the girls, one after the other!”

“No, this one here is sweeter,” Ergushov shouted, kissing the old woman, who was struggling to push him away.

“He’s choking me!” she cried out, laughing.

The even sound of stamping feet at the end of the street interrupted the banter. Three soldiers in army coats, their rifles on their shoulders, marched in step to relieve the men standing guard by the ammunition wagon. The corporal, a distinguished old soldier, glaring angrily at the Cossacks, marched his men directly at the group, so that Lukashka and Nazarka, who were in the middle of the street, would have had to move in order to let them pass. Nazarka stepped aside, but Lukashka stayed where he was, narrowing his eyes and turning his broad back toward the soldiers. “We’re standing here, so walk around us,” he said, contemptuously nodding his head back over his shoulder at the marching men.

They marched silently around him, stamping their boots on the dusty street. Maryanka laughed out loud, and the other girls joined in.

“What handsome uniforms!” Nazarka said. “Such fine military men!” And he marched along the street, mimicking them.

Again the villagers laughed.

Lukashka slowly went over to Maryanka. “Where have you put up the commander who’s been billeted on you?” he asked.

Maryanka thought for a moment. “In our new house.”

“Is he old or young?” Lukashka asked, sitting down beside her.

“You think I’ve asked?” she said. “I was sent to get him some Chikhir, and through the window I saw a redheaded fellow sitting with Uncle Eroshka. They brought in a whole cartload of his things.” She lowered her gaze.

“I’m glad I managed to get leave from the checkpoint!” Lukashka said, moving closer and looking into her eyes.

“Have you come for a long time?” Maryanka asked with a faint smile.

“Till morning,” he said. “Give me some seeds,” he added, stretching out his hand.

Maryanka smiled and unbuttoned the collar of her smock.

“Don’t take them all, though,” she said.

“I was so lonely without you at the checkpoint!” Lukashka said in a restrained whisper, as she took the bag from between her breasts. Moving even closer, he whispered something to her with a twinkle in his eye.

“No, I won’t come! I won’t!” Maryanka said abruptly, leaning away from him.

“But I want to tell you something,” Lukashka whispered. “By God, you must come, Mashenka!”

Maryanka smiled and shook her head.

“Maryanka, Maryanka!” her little brother shouted, running along the street toward them. “Mummy says dinner’s ready!”

“I’m coming! Go back on your own, darling, and I’ll be there in a minute.”

Lukashka stood up and raised his hat. “I think I’ll go home too,” he said coolly, but struggling to repress a smile, and disappeared behind the corner of the house.

Night had completely descended on the village. Bright stars were strewn across the sky. The streets were dark and empty. Nazarka
stayed behind with the Cossack women on the earthen mound, their laughter ringing out. Lukashka, having left nonchalantly, crouched like a cat and then suddenly ran silently toward Maryanka’s house, holding down his swinging dagger. He passed two streets, went around the corner, and lifting the tails of his Circassian coat, sat down and waited by the fence. “She’s a typical cornet’s daughter!” he thought. “Won’t even go in for some fun! We’ll see!”

The sound of a woman’s quick footsteps caught his attention. He listened and chuckled. Maryanka, her head lowered, was walking straight toward him, tapping her cattle switch against the palings of the fence. Lukashka stood up.

“You devil! You startled me!” she said, laughing. “I see you didn’t go home after all.”

Lukashka put one arm around her and with the other touched her face. “I wanted to tell you something!” he said, his voice trembling.

“What can you have to tell me in the middle of the night?” Maryanka asked. “My mother is waiting for me, and I’m sure your sweet little soul is waiting for you.”

She freed herself from his embrace and hurried to the gate of her yard, Lukashka running beside her, still trying to talk her into staying awhile. She stopped and turned to him, smiling. “What did you want to tell me, you night owl?”

“Don’t make fun of me, Maryanka! What does it matter that I have a sweet little soul—she can go to Hell for all I care! Just say a word, and I will love you, I will do whatever you want!” He jingled the coins in his pocket. “Hear that? Now we can really live! Other men find happiness, but what about me? Can’t I find some with you, Maryanka?”

She remained silent. She stood in front of him, breaking her switch into small pieces with nimble fingers. Lukashka suddenly clenched his fists. “Why do I have to wait and wait?” he exclaimed, seizing both her hands with a dark frown. “Don’t I love you, my sweetheart? Do whatever you want with me!”

Maryanka did not turn her face away from him as she spoke. “Don’t try to bully me, Lukashka, but there is something I want to tell you,” she said, her calm expression and voice not changing. She stepped back but did not pull her hands away from his. “I know I am just a girl,
but I want you to listen to me. It’s not for me to say, but if you love me, then this is what we should do.” She tried to pull away from him. “If you let go of me, I’ll tell you. I will marry you, but don’t expect any nonsense beforehand.”

“You will marry me? But it isn’t for us to decide if we can marry! What I’m asking you is to love me, Maryanka!” Lukashka said, suddenly humble and gentle. He smiled and gazed into her eyes. Maryanka embraced him tightly and kissed him vehemently on the lips. “My darling!” she whispered, pressing him against her. Then she suddenly tore herself away and ran through the gate and into her yard, in spite of his entreaties.

“Go! They will see us!” she called back. “Go! I think that devil of a Russian quartered with us is loitering about in the yard!”

“That cornet’s daughter!” Lukashka thought. “Ha, she’ll marry me! Marriage is nice and fine, but what I want is love.”

He found Nazarka at Yamka’s, and the two men walked to Dunaika’s, where Lukashka spent the night, despite Dunaika’s unfaithfulness.

Olenin had in fact been in the yard when Maryanka came through the gate, and he heard her say, “That devil of a Russian quartered with us is loitering about in the yard!” He had spent the whole evening with Uncle Eroshka on the porch of his new lodgings. He had called for a table, a samovar, wine, and a lighted candle, and over a glass of tea and a cigar had listened to the tales of the old man, who sat at his feet on the porch. Though the breeze was mild, the candle dripped and the flame danced in all directions, now lighting up the porch’s columns, now the table and the plates, now the old man’s white, close-cropped head. Moths circled in the air, dust sprinkling from their wings. They thrashed about on the table and in the glasses, flew into the flame of the candle, or disappeared into the black air beyond the circle of light.

Olenin and Eroshka drank five bottles of Chikhir. Eroshka kept filling the glasses, always handing one to Olenin, drinking his health and talking tirelessly. He spoke of the Cossacks’ old way of life, of his father, who had been called Broad-back. He had been known to carry
a dead boar weighing upward of ten pood
*
on his shoulders, and could drink two whole buckets of Chikhir in a single sitting. He talked of his youth and of his friend Girchik, with whom he had carried felt cloaks across the Terek during the plague. He talked of hunting, and how one morning he had killed two deer, and of his sweet little soul who used to come out to the checkpoint at night. He told all this with such passion that Olenin did not notice how much time had passed.

“Ah yes, my friend,” Eroshka told him, “you did not know me in my best years—back then I could have shown you a thing or two! And now the children sing, ‘He kissed his dog good-bye, he licked the barrel dry!’ but in those days the name Eroshka thundered through the whole regiment. Who had the best horse? Who had a genuine Gurda sword? Who was the man to go drinking and carousing with? Who was sent to the mountains to kill Ahmet Khan? Eroshka, that’s who! Who did the girls love? Eroshka! And that’s because I was a true warrior. A drinker, a horse rustler—I seized whole herds up in the mountains. A singer! There was nothing I couldn’t do. Today there aren’t any more Cossacks like that. It turns my stomach even to look at them! From the time they are this high,” he added, holding his hand a few feet from the ground, “they put on foolish little boots and spend the day staring at them—their only pleasure! Or they drink themselves into a stupor, but even that they can’t do like real men! But who was I? I was Eroshka the horse rustler. I barely came down to the village—I was always up in the mountains! Princes who were my blood brothers came to see me. In those days I was blood brother to all: Tatars, Armenians, Russian soldiers and officers. I didn’t care who a man was as long as he could hold his drink. They tell me I must stop mixing with others, not drink with Russian soldiers, not eat with Tatars.”

“Who tells you that?” Olenin asked.

“Our priests. But you should hear a mullah or a Tatar qadi! He’ll say: ‘You are unbelieving infidels! Why do you eat pork?’ You see, everyone has his own rules. But if you ask me, it’s all the same. God made everything for man’s pleasure. There’s no sin in anything. Take a beast: a beast will live in the Tatar’s reeds as well as in ours—wherever it goes,
the beast’s at home. Whatever God gives it, it will eat. But our priests say we’ll have to lick frying pans in Hell. I think it’s all a lie!”

“What’s all a lie?”

“What the priests say. I’ll tell you something—in Chervlenaya, the Cossack colonel himself was my blood brother. He was as fine a fellow as I was. He was killed in Chechnya. He used to say that the priests had made the whole thing up. When you croak, he used to say, grass will grow over your grave, and that will be that.” Eroshka laughed. “What a wild fellow he was!”

“How old are you?” Olenin asked.

“God only knows! I’d say I’m about seventy. I was no longer a stripling when you Russians still had a czarina on the throne—so you count up how old I might be. About seventy, no?”

“That sounds right. But you’re still a fine fellow!”

“Well, I thank God that I’m healthy, very healthy. But that witch of a woman ruined my life!”

“What do you mean?”

“She ruined it!”

“So when you die, grass will grow?” Olenin asked.

Eroshka clearly did not want to explain himself. He was silent for a few moments.