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and the shaman. The old men followed him until soon the entire male populace stood in front of the shaman's hut. Although their manner was more timorous than threatening, I rested my fingers lightly on the pistol, ready to spring to Jeremy's defense if the need arose. The men began to speak in low, nervous voices. I couldn't distinguish

the words from where I sat, but from their expressions and gestures I sensed they were imploring Jeremy to leave the village at once.

The women stood in front oftheir respective huts, mute, staring at me. A little boy darted from behind his mother's skirts, dashed over to the fire and snatched up the stick that held his potato. He gave me a quick grin before scurrying

back to safety. The tall, gaunt-faced woman in tattered gray shawl and worn blue dress frowned, nodded her head decisively and said something to the woman beside her. Her neighbor looked horrified, attempting to restrain her as the woman started toward the sleigh. She moved in a purposeful stride, shawl wrapped close, head held high.

Stopping beside the sleigh, she gazed at me with level brown eyes. Her black hair was streaked with gray, and, though gaunt and lined, her face had strength and a unique kind of beauty.

"I am Johanna," she told me. "The others, they are afraid to speak with you. I am not afraid. You would like tea?"

"I –I would be most grateful," I replied.

"Come. We will go inside my house."

I hesitated a moment, glancing toward the shaman's hut. Jeremy was explaining to the men that we merely wanted to replenish our supplies, that we meant no harm.

Confident he was in no danger, I got out of the sleigh, slipping the pistol into the pocket of my cloak. Johanna led the way to her hut as the other women watched in horror, whispering among themselves. She lifted the sheepskin flap and motioned for me to step inside.

An oil lamp burned weakly, shedding a pale yellow light that washed the windowless walls. There was a cot, a chest, two chairs. A tarnished bronze samovar was bubbling,

and the goat I had heard bleating earlier stirred nervously, tied to a stake driven into the straw-littered dirt floor. Two pigs and a number of chickens also occupied

the place, the former snoozing peacefully, the latter idly pecking in the straw. The little girl with the flaxen hair and wide blue eyes sat contentedly in a corner, stroking a doll made from a corncob. Johanna spoke to her brusquely,

and the child laid down her doll, got to her feet, and scurried out of the hut.

"My daughter Kyra," Johanna said. "Please, do sit down."

"Thank you very much."

"I am most fortunate. I own a samovar. I am able to buy tea the last time the trader comes to our village in his gypsy caravan." She poured tea into a thick brown cup and

handed it to me. "I am sorry I have no sugar to offer. This I cannot buy. The tea is strong enough?"

"It's wonderful, Johanna. You are very kind."

Johanna scowled, dismissing such a preposterous assumption.

"I know who you are," she said. "You are the English woman, the one with hair the color of flame. Just four hours ago they are here, this Pulaski and seven others, looking for you."

I could feel the color drain from my cheeks. "They-they were here'?" I clutched the cup to keep my hands from trembling.

"They search. They question us. They make threats. If we help you, they say, our village will be burned."

"That-that's why the others were afraid," I said.

"They are afraid, yes, but I, Johanna, am not afraid. My husband Ivan, he was the head man in our village, second only to the shaman in authority. Months ago, this man Pulaski comes to recruit for Pugachev. My husband defies him and-and he is killed."

"I-I'm sorry, Johanna."

"The young men of our village, they go with Pulaski. My son Peter, he is only seventeen. He-he goes, too, travels to

the Volga, and two months later he is killed in battle."

She stood staring at the bare brown wall, seeing something

else in her mind, and the hands at her sides were curled into tight fists.

"One kind of tyranny has been replaced by another,"

she said. "This I tell my people, but they are like the sheep.

Pugachev is a very evil man, I tell them. They are afraid to cross him."

She turned to look at me, her face hard, her eyes determined.

"This is why I help you. I hear this man you are with tell our shaman you need food. I, Johanna, will give it to you, half my portion for the month."

"But then-then you and your daughter-"

"We do not go without. I am fortunate. I have the chickens for eggs, the goat for milk. I barter. I trade tea for bread and meat. If necessary I slaughter one of my pigs."

"I have gold, Johanna. You must let me give you-"

"Gold? What use is it to me? You have blankets in your sleigh, I see. If-if it is your desire, you may give me one of them so that my Kyra will not shiver so at night."

"You shall have two of them."

Johanna nodded curtly and told me to finish my tea.

When we left the hut a few minutes later, Jeremy was standing by the sleigh, looking extremely discouraged.

The villagers stood silently, watching him as though he were some kind of pariah. The shaman was muttering an incantation, his arms waving in the air. Johanna moved with a stern, defiant mien, showing her people that she, at least, was not a sheep, shaming them for their cowardice.

The women whispered nervously, the men looked unhappy

indeed, but no one tried to stop her when she took our two food bags and carried them into the cookhouse.

"What happened, Marietta?" Jeremy asked. "The men were adamant, refused to give me so much as a crumb, said

we must leave the village immediately. How did you convince

her to help us?"

As we stood there beside the sleigh, waiting for Johanna to return, I told him all that she had said, and Jeremy listened

with a grim expression, drumming the fingers of his left hand on the back of the sleigh.

"They must have guessed we'd take the back road," he told me. "They must have taken shelter during the blizzard,

then, as soon as it was over, traveled the rest of the night."

"They-they would have passed right by our hut."

"Before dawn, obviously. Wouldn't have seen it in the dark and in the snow."

"If-if they had-"

"They didn't," he said tersely. "Here comes our friend."

Johanna came toward the sleigh carrying our two bags and a third, smaller bag of rough brown sack filled with oats for the horse. Jeremy took the bags from her and put them on the floor of the sleigh. I folded two blankets and handed them to her. Johanna held them against her breast, her eyes still hard and defiant as the villagers stared in silent disapproval.

"You must not take this road," she told us. "It is the one they took. When they do not find you, they will turn back, and you would run right into them. You must cut through the woods and return to the main road."

"We can get through the woods with the sleigh?"

Jeremyasked.

"A mile or so back down the road, there is a pathway.

You probably did not notice it before. Turn there. The path should be wide enough for your sleigh. It twists and winds through the woods but will eventually take you to the main road."

" I-I don't know how to thank you, Johanna," I said quietly. "If you hadn't come to our aid-"

"It is a pleasure for me to defy this Pulaski and the demon he serves," she replied. "Go in safety."

Jeremy and I climbed into the sleigh. He arranged the three remaining blankets and the rug over our knees and gathered up the reins. We circled around the fire and turned back onto the road. When I looked back, Johanna was still standing near the fire, alone in the center of the clearing, her head held high, her back straight, arms folded around the blankets more precious to her than gold..

A mere peasant she was, unlettered and living with livestock

in a stinking hut, yet one of the most remarkable women I had ever met. For me, Johanna would always represent

the true spirit of Russia.

We soon located the path she had told us about and turned into the woods. The pathway was rough, winding between tree trunks, but we were able to navigate by driving

slowly and carefully. Frozen branches hung low, so low Jeremy had to push them aside, but eventually the pathway

grew wider, more like a road. I was depressed, and, sensing it, Jeremy reached over and squeezed my hand.

"I don't think we have anything to worry about, Marietta. Once they realize they passed us during the night, once they turn back, we'll already be miles ahead of them on the main road."

"I –I wasn't thinking about that. I was thinking about Johanna."

"We'd have been in a sad plight without her," Jeremy said.

"She lost her husband, her son-all because of Pugachev.

How many women have been widowed because of

him? How many have lost their sons? It's hard to believe that one man can cause so much grief."

"Pugachev's a man with a mission. He's not concerned with human life."

"Everyone believes he's a madman," I said, "but he isn't, Jeremy. He knows exactly what he's doing. He may adorn himself in barbaric splendor and carry a scepter and pretend he's the reincarnation of Peter III, but every move he makes is carefully calculated."

"I reckon so. The man's a military genius. He's managed to launch one of the most successful campaigns in recent history almost single-handedly, and all the might of the Imperial Army hasn't been able to put him down. They've underestimated him from the first."

"He plans to take St. Petersburg before the month is out."

"Not much likelihood of that. He hasn't nearly enough

. men, and as soon as we get to St. Petersburg I intend to give the army a detailed map showing them exactly how to reach his secret camp."

"He has more men joining him," I said, "three different groups, thousands of men."

Jeremy was silent for a moment, concentrating on the reins, the road, a deep crease between his brows. I could see that my last words had disturbed him. When he spoke, his voice was casual, much too casual.

"How do you know this, Marietta?"

"He told me-when I was in his tent."

"I see. Uh-what else did he tell you?"

"He told me they'd be joining him within the next ten days. That's why he's remained in one place so long-he's been waiting for the others. He's had his men strike at random

all over this part of the country, first in one spot; then another, fifty miles away, deliberately confusing the army. Catherine's men are scattered about in small battalions,

searching for his camp. When the others join him, Pugachev will have a mighty force->"

"And before the Imperial Army can regroup, he'll march on the capital," Jeremy said. "I told you the man was a military genius."

Jeremy manipulated the reins, guiding the horse between icy tree trunks, and when the pathway straightened out, he turned to me, his expression grave. I felt a terrible foreboding.

"You realize what this means, don't you?" he asked. His voice was level. "You realize how important this information

is?"

"I –I didn't before, not really. I-yes, I suppose I do."

He said nothing more. It was with a sinking heart that I realized that the fate of thousands, of the entire country, might rest on this information we had, that delivering it to the proper authorities was much more important than our individual safety. I knew Jeremy, knew the kind of man he was, and the sense of foreboding grew as we continued to drive through the icy woods. And only this morning I had been filled with such joy, celebrating the happiness that

... that might now be taken from me. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps he would wait until we reached St.

Petersburg to notify the government and not become personally

involved. It was a small hope. I clung to it as the silence continued, as Jeremy frowned, immersed in thought.

After what seemed an eternity, we reached the main road and turned onto it, leaving the woods behind. Jeremy urged the horse to trot faster, clicking the reins smartly.

He still didn't speak, was still immersed in thought. He might have been alone in the sleigh, seemed to have forgotten me completely. I understood, but that didn't make

it any easier. We sped along, and I stared at ice and snow, disturbed, depressed, trying to control the emotional storm growing inside. I wasn't going to give way. I was going to accept whatever came. I wasn't going to cry and ... and make it even more difficult for him.

I have no idea how much time passed before I felt him tense and saw his strong, capable hands tugging on the reins, guiding the horse to the side of the road. Perhaps sixty yards ahead of us, the road made a wide curve, disappearing

beyond the trees. Jeremy's face was hard as he stopped the sleigh and picked up one of the rifles.

"What-Jeremy, what is it?"

"Get out ofthe sleigh," he ordered. "Get behind it. Here, take this rifle."

"But-"

"Do as I say, Marietta!"

I climbed out of the sleigh and took the rifle, arid as he joined me behind the sleigh with the other two rifles, I heard the horses, hooves pounding on the road, beyond the

curve, the riders still out of sight. They must have cut through the woods themselves, I thought. Instead of turning

around and heading back toward Johanna's village, Pulaski and the others had decided to cut through the woods and search for us on the main road. Jeremy didn't have to tell me what to do. Gripping the rifle firmly, aiming it at the spot where the road curved abruptly, I waited, curiously calm, curiously resigned.

"There are only eight of them," he said. "They won't be expecting anything like this. I love you, Marietta."

"I –I love you, too."

The pounding of horse hooves grew louder, louder, much too loud for only eight riders, I thought. It sounded like a whole battalion. Beside me, his body poised, his blue eyes full of lethal determination, Jeremy waited, finger curled on the trigger of his rifle, shot bag and powder horn at hand. The black sheepskin coat hanging open, the red scarf flaring, hat pulled low over his brow, he was in perfect control. Tightening my finger on the trigger, staring down the length of the barrel, waiting, I wondered if these were the last moments we would ever spend together. I prayed silently as horse hooves thundered, and then the first riders came around the curve and charged toward us.