The Lost Souls of Angelkov Read Online Free PDF Page A

has to ask.
    Grisha shakes his head. “Not yet, madam, but Lyosha and the others are still searching. They had a good lead while it was still light, as the tracks …” He stops, glancing atKonstantin. “The count was weak from loss of blood. He can hardly remain on his horse. I had to bring him home. But the others … they’ll find him, madam.”
    Antonina clutches the shawl at her chest with one hand as if a sudden cold breeze has swept through the yard. “But it’s been too long. It’s too long, Grisha. And now it’s almost dark.”
    “No, not so long,” he says, dismounting and coming to stand beside her. “Lilya! Call Pavel to help with the count.” He touches Antonina’s hand briefly. “Not long at all. And if he isn’t found tonight, we’ll begin again as soon as it’s light, with fresh horses.”
    Again, his confidence and touch calm her. Konstantin’s manservant, Pavel, arrives, and he and Grisha get Konstantin off his horse. They help him to his bedchamber. Antonina follows, and when her husband is lying on his bed, his good hand over his eyes, she moves to stand beside him.
    “Husband,” she says with authority, looking down at him. Konstantin takes his hand away from his eyes. “Speak to me, Konstantin Nikolevich. Tell me how you last saw Mikhail.” She sees a fresh scab on the sagging skin under his earlobe. “Kostya,” she says, louder this time.
    He looks at her, but his mouth remains closed.
    “Why will you not speak to me?” She grabs his shoulders and shakes him. As if in a dream, she sees herself from above, as wild as a
vedma
, perhaps Baba Yaga herself.
    Konstantin stares up at her. His helpless expression fills her with rage. Grisha steps behind her and puts his hand on her shoulder, and she stops shaking her husband, ashamed.
    Konstantin’s mouth opens, a black square beneath his thick white moustache, and he whispers, “My son. Tosya, our boy.” His eyes glisten with tears. “He was so brave.”
    Antonina puts her hand to her mouth, and Grisha lets go of Antonina’s shoulder and steps back. She hears the door quietly closing. Pavel remains in place, ready to do her bidding. She hovers near the bed. But instead of Konstantin’s tears invoking sympathy, they arouse even more fury in her. Her own tears come from this anger, and from the terrible fear.
    “Tell me,” she says, quietly this time.
    “They … they just led his horse away. They didn’t hurt him—they didn’t touch him at all. He didn’t make a sound. I told him to be quiet, and he did. He did, Tosya. He’s a good boy. He was always a good boy, wasn’t he?”
    Antonina can’t speak.
    “He is a child of breeding, and of high intelligence. He will act in a noble way, as we have taught him. The Cossacks will see this. They’ll respect him for it.”
    Antonina closes her eyes. Konstantin is a fool.
They’ve taken our child, and he talks about respect
.
    “He sat so well on the horse, Tosya. I saw, as he rode away, that he had more control of it than I had imagined. He has the makings of a good horseman. All he needs is more riding—less time at the piano and more in the saddle.”
    Does he think I don’t know my own son? I want to know what will happen next. I want to know when I will have him in my arms again
.
    “His head was held high, Tosya. He will not bow it to them. I have taught him well.” At this Konstantin’s voice quavers, and he begins to cry in earnest, sobbing like a boy. Antonina has never seen him like this. She wishes for arms around her, wishes for some kind of comfort, but doesn’t move any nearer to her husband.
    And because there’s nothing more for her to do, she kneels and prays, looking at Konstantin. His eyes are closed and tears run down the sides of his cheeks, towards his ears, but he makes no sound.
    Antonina requests that Pavel fetch the vodka from Konstantin’s rosewood table near the fireplace. Unlike Lilya, Pavel obeys without hesitation. Grabbing the