Russka - Edward Rutherfurd [223]
‘Perhaps I shall visit it some day,’ he said lightly.
They talked a little more. He told them about his companions and where they were lodged, then they parted. As they did so, he saw that the girl was looking at him intently.
It was not a complete surprise, therefore, when he met her in the street the next day near his lodgings. She came up to him with a smile. Despite the dark mark around her eye, she looked cheerful, even radiant. She had a light, springing step. ‘Well, Mr Cossack,’ she said, ‘may I walk with you?’
Most of the women one saw in the street moved rather cautiously; even if they wore a headdress, they placed a large scarf over it, tied under the chin; they seldom smiled. But though she wore a scarf and a long, rather threadbare cloak, there was something in this girl’s easy, almost dancing gait that reminded him of the free, self-confident Cossack girls of the south. ‘You should call me Maryushka,’ she said, using the diminutive. ‘Everybody does.’
‘Well, Maryushka,’ he said, ‘tell me about yourself. Why do you have a black eye?’
She laughed. It was a gay little sound, though with a hint of sadness and bravery in it that was very appealing.
‘You never need to ask a married woman that,’ she replied. Then with a sigh she added: ‘They say it’s a fault in my character.’
Her story was simple, though unusual. When she was younger, she had refused to marry.
‘There was a boy in Russka,’ she laughed again. ‘He was so handsome! Slim, and dark like you. But he married someone else. He didn’t want me. And the other boys – well …’ She made a gesture of contempt. ‘My father was dead. My mother goes on at me every day: “Marry this one, marry that one.” I say, “No! He’s too short. No, he’s too tall.” She says I’m a wicked girl. I need training. I’ll get a bad name. So …’ She shrugged.
‘So you married the steward? The man I saw at Bobrov’s?’
‘His wife died. He told my mother he’d tame me. “Give her to me,” he says.’
‘You didn’t refuse?’
‘Yes. But he’s the steward. He could make it very awkward for us. He has the power. So – that’s life. I married. I was old, you know. Nearly twenty.’
‘And he beats you?’
She shrugged.
‘That’s part of being married. He hits with his fist. Sometimes I can get out of his way. But he’s quick.’ She gave a mournful laugh. ‘Oh, yes. He’s quick. So. That’s all.’
Andrei had always heard that these women in north Russia suffered harsh treatment from their husbands. The Cossack girls, he knew, though their husbands often called them weak women and pretended to despise them, would not have put up with much of this kind of treatment.
‘What does your mother say?’
‘At first she says: “Obey him and don’t be headstrong, then he won’t beat you.” Then she says: “You must work to make him love you. Have children.”’ She shrugged, then gave him a little smile. ‘You know what she says now? She says: “Maryushka, all men are the same, to tell you the truth. Obey him, submit, but keep your own council. Men are despicable,” she says, “but there’s nothing you can do about it.” So I say: “Why didn’t you tell me that before?” And she says: “Because I wanted you to get married.”’ She laughed aloud. ‘So I’m married.’
‘And how did you get to Moscow?’
‘Ah, I tricked him. He had to bring the rents to our landlord. So I say: “Take me to Moscow and I’ll do anything you want.” Then when I get here I say to my mother: “You have to keep me here. I can’t stand it any more. Not this month.” So she pretends to hurt her leg and the landlord’s sent him back to Russka without me!’ She laughed happily.
‘Look,’ she cried suddenly, ‘there’s a church. Let’s go in and pray.’
What a strange, wayward girl she was! But what spirit she had. Before they parted that day, Andrei had already decided: It’s time I had a woman: this will be the one.
Because of business, however, he had to put her out of his mind for a couple of days.
It was on the third day that he saw a strange sight. He was just walking out of the