Crossing the Dvina - The Border is Crossed (II)
"To Meet Once More the Face of the Forgotten"
"To Meet Once More the Face of the Forgotten"
Anatoly Stroganov rode in the lead, his younger brother by two years Kazimir, behind him. Zinaida kept abreast with Kazimir, seven years her senior at her own age of nineteen years. The morning of their first day was waning yet the weather hold, a great blue sky above them, a distant sun's rays filtered through the forest canopy seeming to make the white furs of Anatoly's cloaks glow. The cold air of early spring invigorated her, but nearly not so much as the prospect for adventure ahead.
Kazimir thought as Zina did, only he was wondering if the first expeditions involved a young woman on a speckled gray horse as the one that rode next to him. Where they were going, there were no roads, no cities, there were places possibly untouched by the human eye for centuries. This thought alone brought a particular thrill to Kazimir's heart. Pytor was no doubt already writing up contracts for land, trade deals with the merchants of Pskov and Novgorod back home. Those were Pytor's thrills, but not for Anatoly and Kazimir and certainly not for Zinaida - they're desire was in the wilderness, on the hunt, exploring, meeting the natives. All these things were routine for the three Stroganovs on their way to the Dvina now, Arkhangl'sk after all lacked one single major settlement it was still a very wild and untamed place itself. Yet there was something different out here, the three of them could feel it already.
Anatoly for his part was more thinking about crossing the Dvina now than much else. He looked up to the distant sun with something bordering scorn as if to warn it of the retribution he would inflict if its light had already weakened the river's ice to the point that it would not be simply crossed. There were bridges at one time, two of them he knew of, but to count on them still being there was sheer folly. That is when his eyes caught something else, a faint trail of smoke rising over the trees in the distance. He held a hand up and the small party stopped, the horses adjusting their legs in the thigh-deep snow.
Anatoly led his horse around next to that of Kazimir, he leaned over and whispered something to his brother, pointing in the distance. Zinaida watched as Kazimir squinted against the light reflecting off the snow and then nod as he apparently found with his gaze what Anatoly was pointing at - despite her efforts Zinaida could not make out what Anatoly was saying. Yet she knew far better than to risk uttering a single word of inquiry, the three had hunted together innumerable times before and such lessons had been learned hard long ago.
Anatoly reached down and tugged a bit at his sword, loosening it in his scabbard - Kazimir mimicked the gesture and leaned over slightly toward Zinaida, a serious look on his face, he spoke quietly "Zina, Anatoly says to brush your hair, we'll be with company soon."
Zinaida's eyes narrowed in a harsh expression, Anatoly smiled and put his finger to his lips. Leading the way, Kazimir followed grinning with Zinaida bringing up the rear along with the servants trudging through the snow with the horses - all of them, the servants, glad their part in this was nearly over. Their only job was to accompany the Stroganovs to the river and then return home with all the horses who by that point would be more a hinderance than an aid.
They climbed a slight ridge through the trees, and the source of the smoke became obvious, a tiny settlement beside the Dvina. The numerous trees connected by long lines with uncountable numbers of fish hanging from them confirmed the nature of the settlement. Through the trees and pass the small huts Anatoly could make out a number of make-shift shacks still on the ice of the river which could be heard to adjust and crack from time to time. Not by much, but they had arrived in time for an easy crossing of the last great obvious natural barrier between them and the delta settlement. Obvious that is, the most dangerous thing between them and the settlment however was never this river, it was the vast, empty expanse of frozen wilderness of Komi beyond the river.
They descended the other side of the ridge toward the small village now, passing through the outermost rings of huts they were viewed with suspicious eyes by the inhabitants. Most of the inhabitants looked quite akin to the western Ugrics - the Fins. These people used rather crude instruments, obviously having virtually no contact save through wandering priests with the rest of the world. It was for this same reason why these newest visitors were viewed in such a timid and suspicious nature.
The three dismounted as they neared the center of the village and Kazimir tapped Anatoly on the elbow. Anatoly's hand went instinctively toward his hilt, before Kazimir noticing this grapped Anatoly's elbow this time and spoke quietly pointing, "A man of God."
Anatoly and Zinaida looked over to where Kazimir was pointing, a small building yet much larger than the rest with a number of crosses to the side and in the front. "A brief shelter from the cold if nothing else, come." , responded Kazimir's brother.
The small wooden door pressed open with ease, and bending over Anatoly, Kazimir and Zinaida passed through the small doorframe into the village chapel. At the far end of the dimly lit building was a bed and a table, before that was pedestal behind which the priest must stand when giving his sermons to however many of the people of this village were indeed christian, which was probably very few indeed.
A small fireplace at the side of the building was all that heated it and the three sat in front of it, removing gloves, hats and cloaks and warming the skin of their hands by the fire, the last they would certainly enjoy inside for quite some time. It was indeed getting closer to Spring, but such regions as these hardly took notice. It was not a few minutes before they were interrupted by the return of a small gruff middle-aged man in black, obviously the man who ran this chapel. He smiled and nodded as he passed by the three of them toward his table at the far end of the room, "Good day, we don't get many visitors out here... " His eyes paid particular attention to the auburn haired young Stroganova, "And certainly not many ladies..."
Anatoly turned to face the priest now rummaging through some papers on his table, "I am Anatoly Fedorivitch Stroganov, this is my brother Kazimir and my sister Zinaida. We are sent by personal order of the Czarina Mina Andreyevna to the delta settlement of Naryan Mar."
The Priest turned his head now with a renewed interest in his visitors, "Ahhh, the son of Fedor Stroganov, quite the rascal that one is. I met your father some years ago in Novgorod." He stopped and looked up at the ceiling as if to divinate a memory long since lost, then he shrugged and looked back at Anatoly, "God Help me, but I do know it was quite a long time ago. Still, from what I understood the Stroganovs weren't working for Moscow. Why the change?"
Kazimir spoke up, "We do not work for Moscow, but for the Grand Princess of Pskov-Novgorod, the Czarina Mina Andreyevna. Obviously news is slow to reach these parts."
The Stroganovs began the long task of informing the priest, one Osip Semyonvitich of the recent happenings in the south. Most notably the war between Pskov-Novgorod and Moscow and of couse of the "little Princess". Osip seemed quite interested in learning more of this Czarina, one called "the blessed" that had brought wealth and prosperity back to Novgorod. They talked over mugs of sbityen and fresh fish taken from under the ice, "I remember when Andrey I Polotovski was elected Grand Prince. It was a farce, everybody knew it. Melnikov, Zhukov, it was the clans that elected Polotovski not the cities. Still, he was effective at a time when such was needed, and it seems like his daughter is far beyond promising. Either way, it seems that the old routes will be re-opened now, maybe there will be some more of a real chance of saving some of the souls of these damned heathens."
Osip who was now sitting next to the Stroganovs next to the fire looked into the flame, its light casting odd shadows on his small round face, "Still... be careful" His eyes took their turn with each of the Stroganovs now, "These heathens are afraid of something lately. Something in the east, in Komi. They don't speak of it though, but one can tell something is bothering them." Osip shrugged and took another drink, "Probably just supersition anyway. But still be careful, nature can be far more deadly than any mortal enemy. I hope that you may pass by here again on your way back. It has been a pleasure meeting you, but i'm sure you must be anxious to leave, put some distance between you and the river before sundown."
Zinaida smiled almost contemptuously at the mention of the natives' superstitions, a look almost exactly shared by Kazimir. They both set down their mugs and stood up to go. Anatoly seemed a bit more serious about the matter however and took Osip's hand, "It has been a pleasure."
The three passed once more through the small doorway, instantly blinded by the mid-day sun outside. The servants had already finished unloading and packing from the horses what the three Stroganovs would take on their backs into the wilderness. Great packs with all manner of bundles and compartments, Zinaida's no significant amount lighter than those of her brothers who even when they put theirs own could tell immediately it would be a tiresome burden - they also knew how stubborn their sister was. Zinaida stepped forward and kissed her gray speckled horse, Zhenya on the muzzle and smiled as she turned away to meet her brothers who were already descending further toward the river.
The servants now turned with the horses and started back from where they had came. In between the Stroganovs and the servants was Osip standing outside his chapel, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the three now come out onto the ice of the river and slowly make their way across and eventually up the opposite bank. To his eyes all that was on the other side was wilderness. And to an extent he was right, for truly was there wilderness to an extent that it baffled the imagination that such great expanses of untamed land existed. However to the three Stroganovs, it was adventure, a journey that was both important and that they would surely remember for the rest of their lives. Light had once more pierced the darkness of the unknown, but could it survive?
