Flight From the Eagle (27 page)

'Of course I want to marry you, Sparrow,' he said. 'If it weren't for this damned war, I'd go find a priest the minute we arrive in Kaluga. Don't have any doubts about me. I love you and if I come back in a fit state, I'll carry you off to the church before you know where you arc!'

'But it might seem different then, when you see me again and realize how dull and ordinary I am.' She sounded so forlorn that Orlov suddenly r
ealized how much her aunt must
have undermined her self-confidence.

'I'm not a boy,' he said. 'I've been in and out of love enough times to know the difference between a passing attraction and a permanent commitment, so stop filling your mind with doubts and kiss me—it's time we went back for supper.'

As he said the words, he wondered what she would do. Would she be too shy or would she give him a sisterly kiss on the brow, a semi-comical one on the end of his nose or a chaste peck on the cheek? To his surprise and delight, she put her arms round his neck and kissed him full on the mouth, warmly, and with her lips parted in a way which he knew she must have learned from him. It was a very creditable kiss for a beginner and he returned it with enthusiasm.

They walked back to the camp with their arms entwined, only separating when they reached the bridge and came within sight of the others. The daylight was fading and the site was lit by the fire in a trench and the glow-worm light of a couple of dozen candle-lanterns hanging on carts or convenient branches. Kolniev had obviously decided to use all the lanterns as they no longer needed to be careful to conserve their candles.

Supper was in line with this policy too, with most of their remaining bacon in the vegetable stew, and a duff richly filled with currants and raisins. The cooks seemed to have put in just about everything that would not be needed tomorrow.

Conversation turned naturally to two topics, the past fortnight and their future plans. It was clear that for all four of them, this journey would be a source of memories for many
years to come and most of them would be pleasant, despite the hardships. Kolniev was the first to talk about the future and he appeared to be worried that he might be thought of only as a captain who had lost his company. 'What gives you that idea?' Orlov asked.

'Well, half my men were killed in that attack and almost all the rest wounded. As far as the War Ministry returns go, that wipes out my company. I shouldn't think it will look very good on my record.'

'On the other hand,' Orlov pointed out, 'you saved the surviving half of your company from capture by the enemy, transported them two hundred miles and lost only two in the process—and one of those wasn't yours, anyway. That should look pretty good on your record.' Kolniev looked more cheerful and began to speculate about the possibility of getting leave and going to see his wife.

Kusminsky sighed. 'I'd like to go home for good, but I don't see how I can while the war's still on. There are never enough surgeons, unfortunately, not like majors and captains. Ten a penny!' Orlov and Kolniev both leaned over and pushed him at the same time and he fell over backwards.

'There, you see,' he said, getting up and sitting on his box again. 'I'm in bad company with these rude, rough soldiers. This is no place for a gentleman!'

While they were laughing, one of the men came running from the bridge gasping, 'Sir! Sir!'

'What is it?' asked Orlov getting up, still with his cup of coffee in his hand.

'Grigor Pavlovitch has fallen down the bank by the bridge! He's hurt and can't move!'

Orlov swore briefly, set down his cup and walked towards the bridge, his long legs carrying him very quickly, but without any appearance of haste. Kusminsky went after him, trotting to keep up and Kolniev also got up, hesitated for a moment and then said to Countess Irina, 'Will you be all right?'

'Yes,' she replied. 'I'll sit here and sew on some more buttons, unless I can help in any way?'

Kolniev smiled, shook his head, and ran after the others.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

He caught up with them before they reached the bridge where there were already a dozen men staring down the bank at two more men with a lantern who were bending over a third, lying half in the water. Orlov went down the steep bank with something between a stride and a slide, pushed the two helpers out of the way and knelt by the injured man. Kusminsky saw Josef coming with his bag of instruments and another lantern and took them from him with a quick 'Good man!'

'The Countess sent me with them,' Josef replied but Kusminsky was already scrambling down the bank. He arrived beside Orlov with a splash and examined Grigor swiftly.

'Stunned and broken leg,' was his verdict. 'Fetch some wood for splints,' he called to the men at the top. 'Josef, you know the sort—two good pieces, about eighteen inches long.' With Orlov's help, he straightened the man and got the fracture lined up. It was in the lower leg and a clean spiral break across both bones. By the time Josef returned with suitable splints, it was ready to be strapped.

While he was working on the leg, Kusminsky said to Orlov, 'Get out of the water before you take a chill and put your mind to work on the problem of getting him up the bank.'

Orlov did as he was told, despite the fact that the water barely reached the tops of his boots, took one of the lanterns and shone it on the slope above them. After careful scrutiny, he found a place by the bridge which was worn smooth by
rain draining off the road above and he called to the men at the top to bring a stretcher and ropes.

Returning to Kusminsky he said, 'If we strap him onto a stretcher, we can just pull him up head first. I'll climb beside him to stop the stretcher jarring or catching on anything and it should be fairly easy—it's only about twelve feet.'

Kusminsky gave a grunt of agreement and Orlov scrambled up the bank to tell Kolniev what he proposed to do. Then he went down again, keeping well to one side to avoid kicking loose stones down on the surgeon or his patient. The stretcher was carefully lowered after him and the two men already at the bottom helped Orlov and Kusminsky to put Grigor on it and fasten him securely.

It was a tricky business as there was no level surface and the stretcher had to be balanced on some rocks projecting above the water. The injured man was heavy and too much stunned and shaken to help. Orlov found himself floundering about in the water, using both arms to haul and steady the inert form and hurting himself considerably in the final stages of lifting.

Eventually, the man was strapped onto the stretcher and carried along a few feet to the bridge. A shout from Orlov brought ropes snaking down in the dim light and the stretcher was held braced against the structure of the bridge while he tied the ropes tightly to the handles at the head end. The unwieldy burden was carefully turned and tilted until it lay almost upright on the slope, Kolniev leaning over the edge at a perilous angle to direct the men holding the ropes as they took the weight. Then began the slow, tedious business of hauling it up.

It was not the weight which caused the trouble so much as the ground the stretcher had to travel over. The slope looked smooth enough but there were dozens of small projecting stones and in the darkness it was difficult to see where in particular one was snagging the stretcher. Orlov climbed with it, calling instructions to Kolniev and dodged from side to side, feeling underneath to ease it past a snag or to remove an offending stone, catching and bruising his hands and trying to spare his left arm which was aching a great deal by now.

When it reached the top, it was quite a simple matter to ease the stretcher over the edge onto level ground. Orlov
was at the foot, giving it the necessary lift to change its direction. He felt the weight go from his hands as the job was completed, just at the moment when his precarious foothold gave way and he slid face-down to the bottom of the slope, clutching at the earth with his hands and failing to find anything to grasp.

He landed in the river with a splash which soaked him up to his chest, scrambled to his feet and floundered out of thé water swearing lustily. When he reached the top of the bank, he found Kolniev roaring with laughter, Kusminsky choking and the men trying to maintain respectfully straight faces and failing lamentably.

'I told you to get out of the water,' Kusminsky gasped, 'not plunge in up to your neck! Have you hurt yourself?' He suddenly sobered, held up a lantern and peered at Orlov's face.

'Not much,' he replied. 'I didn't knock my arm, anyway. I think I'm just wet and a bit scraped.' He held out his hands but Kusminsky gave them only a cursory glance. 'Only grazes,' he said. 'You've cut your face, but it's nothing much. Wash it well and leave it. You'll heal.'

He turned away to see to the injured Grigor Pavlovitch and Orlov went off to his tent, shivering in his wet clothes in the chill night air. Dealing with Grigor had taken longer than he realized and Countess Irina had already gone to bed.

She sat up as Orlov entered the tent, started to ask about the accident and th
en saw the trickle
of blood on his face.

'Oh, Lev! You're hurt! ' She got up and went to him, her eyes huge with concern and then realized that he was soaking wet. 'And you're dripping too! Do take your wet things off and then I'll see to your face.'

Orlov stripped off his boots, coat and shirt and modestly retired outside to change the rest of his garments for the dry ones he pulled out of his trunk. Then he returned and sat on the ground while Irina cleaned his face and inspected the cut, telling her briefly what had happened.

She was kneeling beside him and he noticed that there was a fine gold chain round her neck, disappearing inside the bodice of her petticoat. He reached out one finger and lifted the chain, pulling out a tiny icon in coloured enamel on gold.

'St Irina?' he asked.

'Yes. I wondered ... I wanted to give it to you. I haven't anything else and I would like to give you
something, to remind you of me
...'
.
Her voice tailed off as if she was afraid he might laugh or be impatient with her sentimental idea.

He caressed her cheek with gentle fingers and smiled. 'I don't need anything to remind me of you, you're too firmly in my heart,' he said. 'But I'd like to have it, just because it's yours.'

She unfastened the chain and put it round his neck, carefully securing the catch. He bent his head forward to help her to reach and kissed the place where the little icon had rested between her breasts which was just level with his face. Then he put his arms round her, pulled her across his lap and kissed her gently, stroking her hair and murmuring endearments and thanks for her gift.

After a while, she said softly, 'You mustn't get chilled. You're quite cold and shivering.' He gave her a last kiss, refrained from mentioning that he was trembling as much as shivering and released her reluctantly, suddenly realizing that this would be the last night they would spend together until they could do so properly after their marriage. But he said nothing about that either.

She insisted on tucking him up in his blankets, spreading his heavy greatcoat over him and kissing him goodnight before retiring to her own place and blowing out the candle. Orlov lay awake for a long time, his body cold and aching, and was vaguely aware as he eventually fell asleep of the sound and smell of the first few drops of rain falling on the dry dust of the road and the canopy of leaves overhead.

By morning, the rain had stopped, leaving the air fresh and chilly and the trees dripping under a dismal grey sky. While Josef shaved him, Orlov asked after Grigor Pavlovitch and Josef said in a faintly disgusted tone, 'The fellow moaned and groaned all night—most disturbing!' He clearly felt that people should suffer in silence.

Orlov dressed himself properly in full uniform, thinking that it would not do to ride into Kaluga minus his stock and helmet in the casual fashion he had fallen into during the past few days. The grey sky looked sufficiently foreboding for
him to tell Josef to strap his greatcoat onto his saddle ready to put on when the rain started again.

Kolniev appeared at breakfast without his head bandage, showing the sabre-cut almost healed, a livid scar running diagonally across his brow. Orlov asked if he should have it re-bandaged, but he replied that he couldn't wear his hat properly with the bandage on. Obviously, he shared Orlov's feeling about being properly dressed to enter the town and judging from the activity among the men, he had already instructed them to smarten up for the occasion.

During the morning's travelling, they passed through another village, a larger, more prosperous one this time, and one or two idlers outside the alehouse gave them a cheer as they went by which Orlov acknowledged with a salute as it sounded genuine. There was a certain amount of other traffic on the road, mainly supply wagons going into Kaluga which drew over to the side of the road to make way for the army in a properly respectful manner.

The rain held off until the end of the morning but cut short their midday break, which was taken at the roadside near the entrance gates of a country mansion. Everyone seemed anxious to press on to the end of the journey now and when a steady drizzle began to fall, they simply packed up and moved on with a mutual accord which required no orders. Orlov put on his greatcoat and then rode alongside Countess Irina's cart for a while. She was well wrapped up in his big cloak and smiled at him as they exchanged a few words, but Orlov thought she looked a little depressed. He wanted to say something to cheer her, but four soldiers in her cart, all listening intently, it was impossible to say anything but the purely conventional.

He returned to the head of the procession as the view ahead opened out and revealed the town of Kaluga, outspread in the river valley below. With their goal in sight, the drivers almost unconsciously stirred the horses to a faster pace. By mid-afternoon, Orlov led the creaking line of carts in at the city gate and through the wet streets, deserted in the steady rain, to the hospital building.

There they were engulfed in the business of arrival, with the authorities, who seemed to be expecting them, taking
over from the officers, sending the stretcher cases to the places prepared for them, and passing those who were fit on to the barracks, where they were also expected. Orlov detected the efficiency of his friend Danilov in this and was not surprised to see that the orders on the barrack commandant's desk were in Danilov's writing over General Barclay's signature.

Once their arrival had been properly reported and Kolniev was busy fitting his men into the accommodation set aside for them, Orlov told Josef to take his belongings to the room allocated to him, while he found somewhere for Countess Irina to lodge.

He found her sitting on a bench under the archway by the commandant's office, the collar of the cloak pulled over her bent head to hide her face, looking lost and disconsolate. 'Come, Sparrow,' he said. 'We'll go to the Governor's house and see what he recommends as a good place for you to stay.'

He put his arm round her and took her over to his waiting horse, mounted, and swung her up in front of him in the usual way. She leaned up close against him and he rubbed his cheek affectionately against her hair with a few murmured endearments. 'We'll ask the Governor's wife to help find a maid for you as well,' he said.

'I've never had a maid,' she said.

'You'll need one if you're to stay at an inn and for when you travel to Ryazan—some respectable, sensible girl to look alter you.'

The Governor's house, an imposing stone edifice in this mainly wooden town, was in the main square. When Orlov sent in his name and rank, the Governor himself came down to receive him, a large elderly gentleman, whose uniform coat strained over his prominent stomach.

'My dear Major! Delighted to see you safe. We've been expecting you with some anxiety, you know.' He shook Orlov's hand and looked enquiringly at the Countess. Orlov explained that she was betrothed to him and that he wanted to ask the Governor's help in arranging for her safety and comfort.

The Governor kissed her hand with a flourish, exclaiming with concern at finding her so wet from the rain.. He took their dripping outdoor clothes and ushered them into his
study, exclaiming still more when Orlov revealed that the Countess had actually travelled with his little convoy of wounded men. He rang for a servant to bring them tea and excused himself while he went to fetch his wife.

While he was gone, Orlov prowled restlessly round the sombre, book-lined study with its heavy dark furniture and commented, 'He seems a kindly sort of fellow.' Irina sat by the fire, her damp skirt steaming, and looked down at her folded hands in her lap, trying not to shiver.

Orlov looked at her a couple of times between peering at the titles of the Governor's books, then he knelt beside her and took her cold hands between his own and rubbed them to try to warm them. She smiled at him, but she looked very pale and strained. 'Don't be afraid, Sparrow,' he said. 'I won't abandon you. I'll not be far away.'

The door opened and the Governor ushered in a tall, angular lady with grey hair under her lace cap and sharp black eyes set in a kindly wrinkled face. Without waiting for formalities, she swept forward with a rustle of silk, ignoring Orlov who had risen hastily to his feet and seized Irina's hand, exclaiming, 'My poor dear girl! You must be exhausted! What a dreadful ordeal! You must stay with me until your betrothed can make provision for you!'