Russka - Edward Rutherfurd [53]
‘They’ve forced some Slavs to row them out,’ someone muttered, and Ivanushka saw that the oarsmen were indeed some unhappy Slav peasants. As he watched, one of the Cumans took a long, curved bow; an arrow flashed over the water, and one of the men in the cargo boat slumped over the side. ‘Behind you!’ came a shout across the water. And he turned and saw another boat cutting them off upstream.
‘There’s nothing for it. We’ll have to make for the left bank,’ the skipper of the little vessel cried.
Yet it was far away. To Ivanushka at that moment, staring across the soft blue waters, it seemed to be almost on the horizon. Grunting with the effort, the oarsmen pulled, and the boat slipped quickly across the flow.
Turning round, Ivanushka saw that the boat with the cargo was already lost. He wondered if the Cumans would be satisfied with that. Moments later, however, he saw that the other Cuman boat was pulling after them.
‘There’s a little stream that joins the river over there,’ the skipper called out. ‘There’s a fort a few miles up it. We’ll make for that.’ And Ivanushka found himself mumbling a prayer. For he knew the fort in question very well.
It was strange to be back at Russka. Zhydovyn was not there, but half a dozen soldiers made them welcome. The Cumans had given up soon after they had left the Dniepr; but the travellers had decided to wait two days in the fort before tempting fate again.
He had trailed about the fort, visited the village and wandered along the quiet paths in the woods, feeling strangely contented. He had even walked out to the edge of the steppe, and gazed out across the feather grasses to where an ancient kurgan could still be seen.
On the third day, the travellers set off again.
But Ivanushka did not go with them.
He hardly knew why. He told himself that providence had granted him a respite. I can pause here, take stock of life, and prepare myself for my journey, he reasoned. The fact that all his decisions had been taken and that he was already on his journey, he somehow put to the back of his mind. All that third day, he walked about by the river.
On the fourth day, he was overcome with a feeling of lassitude, and he slept.
It was on the next day that he met the peasant Shchek. The fellow was thinner than before, but he greeted Ivanushka warmly. When Ivanushka asked him if he had paid his debts now, he grinned sheepishly.
‘Yes and no,’ he replied. ‘I’m a zakup.’
This was a harsh institution. A man who could not pay his creditors had to work for them, virtually as a slave, until the debt was paid off. Since the debt continued to accrue interest during this period, however, these unfortunates seldom managed to get free again. ‘I got the prince’s steward to take over all my debts,’ he explained, ‘so now I work for the prince.’
‘And when will you get free again?’ Ivanushka asked.
Shchek smiled ruefully. ‘In thirty years,’ he said. ‘And what are you doing, young lord?’ he inquired.
Ivanushka explained that he was going on a great journey to Constantinople and to Greece, to become a monk. Shchek listened carefully, then nodded in understanding.
‘So you’ll never be free either,’ he remarked. ‘Just like me.’
Ivanushka gazed at the peasant. The similarity between them had not occurred to him. But I suppose he’s right, he thought. I’m a prisoner of fate too. And reaching into his pouch, he gave Shchek a silver grivna. Then he passed on. He wondered if he should have given him more. But I need my money, he considered, for my journey.
The day afterwards he left Russka on foot, going towards the River Dniepr.
It was after parting from Ivanushka that Shchek the peasant had wandered out from the village towards the steppe.
Though the