Russka - Edward Rutherfurd [238]
He brought some presents with him.
Often, he felt melancholy. Once, just past a village on the River Kliasma, he saw a raft moored in midstream. It had a single mast from the top of which hung a rope; and at the end of the rope, with a large iron hook under his rib-cage, hung the body of a man. Obviously he must be a robber of some kind, for this kind of death was the standard Muscovite punishment for river pirates. But as he drew closer Andrei saw from the man’s baggy trousers and long moustaches that he had been a Cossack. He had obviously hung there for a week already.
A Cossack: a brother. Yet not, of course, a brother.
‘He was poor. I am rich.’
For some reason even his own good fortune, compared to this fellow’s, filled Andrei with a sense of desolation.
It was three days later that he came in sight of Russka.
He was still half a mile from the little town when he met Elena. She was walking through the woods.
She recognized him at once, but her stolid, sturdy face gave no sign of pleasure or even of interest at the meeting.
After a brief greeting he asked: ‘Did Maryushka have a child?’
‘Yes.’
‘A boy?’
‘A girl.’
‘Where are they now?’
‘The baby is at the village. Maryushka – who knows?’ And Elena explained her daughter’s departure.
He was appalled.
‘She just walked off?’
‘Into the forest. Or the steppe perhaps. She’ll be dead now.’
‘Perhaps not,’ he suggested.
‘Perhaps.’
He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I must see the child.’
‘What for?’
It was hard to say. But he knew he wanted to.
‘Stay away,’ the older woman said. ‘He knows about you – the steward. You can only make things worse for us, and the child, if he sees you.’ And reluctantly Andrei realized that she was probably right.
He drew out a purse of money. He had brought it for Maryushka. There was also a little golden bracelet – rather fine – in which was set a large amethyst. ‘Give the little girl these, when she gets married.’
Elena took them without comment. ‘Goodbye,’ she said bleakly.
He paused, looking down at her, feeling awkward. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said finally.
She glanced at him, but there was no hint of forgiveness in her eyes. Then she spat.
‘For what?’
He was silent.
‘Leave now, Cossack,’ she said in a voice that was full, not of hatred, but of a dull contempt.
Andrei returned her sullen gaze. For a second, that word – Cossack – and the way it was said, annoyed him. Am I to be despised by a Russian peasant, he thought irritably.
It seemed that old Elena had read something of his thoughts, for now she decided to speak again. ‘Do you know, Mister Cossack, what the difference is between you and a Russian man?’ she asked quietly. ‘Just one thing: that you can ride away.’ She spat again. ‘The steward gets drunk and beats Maryushka. You get her pregnant and ride into the steppe. And we women, who suffer, we remain, like the earth. You trample us, yet without us you are nothing.’ Then she shrugged. ‘God made us want you. Our eyes make us despise you.’
Andrei nodded. He understood. It was the eternal voice of Russian womanhood.
Slowly he remounted, and without another word rode quietly away. He did not expect that he would ever see his daughter. Only when he was several miles away did he realize that he had forgotten to ask her name.
Elena never told Arina about her father’s visit, though she carefully hid the money and the bracelet under the floor. Why cause trouble, she thought. If the steward gets to know about the money, he’ll want it. As for the Cossack – better Arina shouldn’t think about him. And, as the years went by, and she saw how plain the girl was, she thought: The poor child will never get married, anyway. What use has she for a dowry?
And so she had given the money to her son, and he had used it to bribe the steward.
1677
Her life had been blameless. Of what,