Flight From the Eagle (5 page)

CHAPTER THREE

The little procession moved slowly on towards the buildings, the sounds of their progress muffled by the thick layer of dust, ankle-deep on the road. It occurred to Orlov that the breeze he had longed for earlier would prove a mixed blessing if it ever arrived, unless it brought some rain to lay the dust.

He drew out his watch to confirm his feeling that the afternoon was well advanced and found that he had correctly estimated that they had been on the move for about three hours since the midday halt. Far enough, under the circumstances. This place would do for their overnight stay.

The buildings, as they drew near, proved to be a posting inn, consisting of a solid house set back from the road and forming an open square with a row of stables and a large barn. There was a pond to one side and a sheltering clump of trees behind the house. The place looked deserted, with no sign of life at all. There were no chickens in the yard or ducks on the pond. The stable doors hung open, as did the big doors of the barn and an abandoned cart lay with one wheel off by the roadside, partly blocking the highway.

Orlov turned into the yard and the carts followed, forming up in a row beside the barn. As Orlov sat his horse, waiting until they were all in position before beginning to reel off his orders, he was surprised by a sound from the house. He turned sharply as the door opened and a young woman came out onto the steps. He saw that she was fairly tall, with rich brown hair swept up beneath a coronet of plaits, and wearing
plain dark travelling dress. He
r face was white and strained an
d seemed all eyes. Kusminsky gave an exclamation, dismounted and walked quickly over to her and Orlov turned away to give the instructions which he had been preparing in his mind, wondering what th
e devil a lady was doing in th
is god-forsaken place.

In a few minutes, he ha
d the men divided into groups an
d busily involved in various necessary activities, accordin
g to
their abilities.

He decided swiftly that the m
en should sleep in the barn, w
hich was well-filled with bales of hay. The badly hurt men were gently carried in and made comfortable, except for the boy with the crushed pelvis, who was still moaning. Orlov hesitated over him for a moment, then instructed that he be left where he was for the time being. The cook's squad went

011 to inspect the kitchen and the horses were being seen to. At length, he was free to dismount from the grey, stiffl
y an
d with considerable relief. His back ached, his arm hurt, his legs were sore with the chafing
of his sweat-soaked clothing, an
d the unexpected appearance of what looked like a lady of quality was a little cloud of appr
ehension at the back of his preo
occupied mind.

He found Kusminsky and Kolniev were both talking to her and he went over to them and s
tood silently looking at her. Sh
e appeared about twenty, clearly a lady, but thin in both body and face, pale, with, big shadowed eyes and she looked tired and frightened.

Kusminsky turned and said, 'This is Major Orlov who is in charge of the party. Major,
Countess Barova has been left str
anded here with her sick aunt. Everyone else has run away.'

Orlov started to think what a damned nuisance of a complication this was likely to be, met the girl's eyes and felt instead a wave of pity for her,
an almost unwilling admiration f
or the way she kept her head
up and her back straight. He c
leared his throat, remembered his manners, swept off his In I met, bowed, and kissed the hand she held out to him, marring the effect by dropping his helmet as he did so. 'Shall we go inside?' he said mildly.

The interior of the inn showed signs of the hurried departure of its normal occupants, but fortunately they seemed
to have left most of the furniture. Orlov ushered the Countess into the small
parlor
which was simply furnished with a few upright chairs and a round table. The Countess sat down and put her folded hands on the table. Kolniev sat astride a chair with his arms along the back of it and Orlov remained standing. Kusminsky said gently, I'm a surgeon. I'll go and see your aunt. Where is she?'

'In the first room at the top of the stairs,' the Countess replied. 'She hasn't moved since yesterday. I think she's...' She gave a small sob, clasped her hands together tightly and swallowed convulsively. Kusminsky went out and could be heard running up the stairs.

Orlov sat down facing the Countess and said quietly, 'What happened? How do you come to be here?'

'My aunt lives—lived—on her estate near Orsha,' she said. 'I'm her companion. We heard that the French were coming and she decided to leave. She had the baggage packed into carts and all the house serfs were to come. We set out a week ago.'

'Where were you heading?' asked Kolniev.

'I don't know.' The Countess looked more distressed than ever. 'It sounds ridiculous, I know, but my aunt never discussed anything with me, never told me what she intended.

She is very ... autocratic.
' Her voice died away. Orlov had
a sudden vision of what the girl's life must have been like. He'd seen a good many like her—poor relations, dependent on the charity of a domineering old lady, made to fetch and carry, treated as a sort of superior servant. Years of long servility turned them into timid faded spinsters, shadows in dowdy clothes, ignored and slighted. He said suddenly, 'I suppose you were the poor relation?'

She met his eyes. The look they exchanged conveyed to her that he understood what her position had been and to him how relieved she was at his understanding. She nodded and continued, 'When we reached here, my aunt complained of feeling ill. That was three days ago. She stayed in bed and I tried to persuade the innkeeper to send for a doctor but he wouldn't do anything. He wanted us to go, to move on. Then, the night before last a man came here, stopped to rest his horse. He said the French were almost at Smolensk and everyone panicked. All the inn people harnessed their carts
and
carriages and went off in a wild scramble.

My aunt's people were frightened and wanted, to go too but my aunt u is too ill. The steward went in to her and told her the French Were coming, but she just lay t
here and didn't say anything. T
hey took everything except what we had in our rooms and
ran
away after the innkeeper. I begged them not to go but they wouldn't listen.' Tears began to run down her cheeks. She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped them away quickly, keeping a tight control on herself.

()rlov looked at her with the sa
me curious mixture of pity and
admiration he had felt earlier, trying to think of something to say. He heard Kusminsky coming down the stairs
and
both he and the Coun
tess stood up as the surgeon en
tered the room, as if anticipating his news.

‘
I m sorry but I'm afraid she's dead,' Kusminsky said gently. The Countess made a little hel
pless gesture with her hands and
the tears began to run down
her cheeks again. Orlov brushed
past the surgeon, knockin
g against the table in his hast
e and gathered her to him
with his good arm round her thin,
shaking shoulders. She hid
her face against his white coat
and sobbed bitterly while h
e stood quite still, his face wo
odenly expressionless and his grey eyes fixed on a point
half
way up the opposite wall. Ku
sminsky looked at Kolniev, jer
ked his head, and the two of them quietly left the room.

'The pair of rats!' thought Orlov. 'Fancy sneaking off and leaving me with this!' The top of
the girl's head came to his ch
in and he absent-mindedly l
eaned his cheek against her soft
hair. He seemed to be stand
ing there for a long time, lis
tening to the sobbing which shook her slender body and hearing the stir and bustle outside as the men went about their various chores. In fact it was only a few minutes before the Countess gently drew away from him, and sat down again .ii the table, wiping her eyes and making an effort to control herself.

‘I’m
sorry,' she said, in a
small broken voice. 'I suppose
I
k
new really, but it's so final to
hear it put into words. Oh, G
od ! What shall I do? I've nowhere to go, no one to turn to!' She sounded panic-stricken
and Orlov quickly said in as M
atter-of-fact a voice as he could
manage, 'Oh, you'd better come
with us, of course. We'll save you from the French.'

She looked at him, her eyes enormous and swimming with tears. 'But where are you going?' she asked. 'Surely you're going towards the fighting?'

'No,' said Orlov. 'We're a convoy of wounded, escaping from Smolensk. We're heading for Kaluga to begin with.'

'Are all your men wounded?' She seemed to take in for the first time that his own arm was in a sling. Orlov was relieved to see that she had been side-tracked out of her panic.

'Yes,' he replied. 'All except Dr Kusminsky and my servant. We're a pretty battered collection but we'll make shift to protect you if you care to come with us.'

'You're very kind,' she said. 'You must have more than enough to worry about without ... oh, but I've no money— nowhere to go.'

'Haven't you any relations at all?' Orlov asked, still keeping his voice steady and deliberately speaking as if this were a normal conversation. She shook her head. 'I found a little over a hundred roubles in my aunt's purse,' she said, 'but it's not mine and I don't know if I should take it... I've nothing-else at all.'

Orlov thought for a moment. 'Look, as an army officer, I have the power to requisition almost anything,' he said. 'I'll requisition the money on your behalf. When we get to Kaluga, I'll contact my lawyers and they can sort out your aunt's affairs. I expect she had a man of business somewhere?'

'Yes, she dealt with a lawyer in Smolensk,' the Countess replied.

'Well, that's all right then,' said Orlov cheerfully, wondering what chance there was of ever sorting out the aunt's affairs, even if her lawyer, let alone his papers, had survived what had happened to Smolensk. 'Meanwhile, there's nothing to be done except get ourselves safely to Kaluga, so we'll worry about the future when we get there.'

'Yes, but—' She was still looking very distressed and anxious and Orlov suddenly found himself leaning across the table to cover her nervously clasped hands with his own sinewy, tanned one in a comforting squeeze. He heard his own voice say in tones of complete conviction, 'Don't worry! I'll look after you.'

He looked straight into her wide brown eyes, shaken by
the look of trust in them. It gave him a jolt like a kick in the stomach and he asked inconsequentially, 'Can you drive a cart?' as he moved away from her.

She looked surprised. 'Like the carts out there?' she asked. 'Yes. At least, I've driven a farm cart at harvest time.'

'Good,' he said. 'We're short of men fit enough to drive. It's a strain on a damaged arm to hold the reins for hours at a time, and most of the men were wounded about the arms and trunk—cavalry attack on infantry.'

She nodded and he wondered if she really understood. He also began to wonder how she would react to the ordeal ahead of her. Obviously, she must have led a pretty dull sort of life, living in the country with an old woman. How would she stand up to the rough conditions of the long journey? She seemed to have courage but was she likely to turn hysterical at the sight of blood, he wondered. He had a sudden impulse to test her.

'Would you change the dressing on my arm?' he asked abruptly. It was certainly very uncomfortable, he told himself, and needed changing.

'I thought the surgeon ...' she began.

'He has enough to do,' said Orlov curtly.

'Yes, of course. Are there any bandages?' She stood up, looking quite prepared to tackle the job.

'We were hoping to find some sheets here,' Orlov replied. 'We're very short of that sort of thing.'

'There are plenty of sheets, but they're very coarse. I
know----' She hurried out of the room and Orlov heard her
go up the stairs. In a few minutes she returned, looking pale but composed, with an armful of white garments which Orlov saw were lawn petticoats.

'My aunt's,' she said. 'They're soft and clean. She wouldn't have them starched.' She began ripping one of them into strips, which she rolled into bandages. Orlov sat back in his chair and let himself relax. He felt utterly weary.

Presently there was a little pile of rolled bandages on the table. The Countess went out of the room, returning presently with a tray of things, including a jug, a bowl and a small stoneware jar. She put them on the table and turned to Orlov.

'Are you ready?' she asked.

Orlov unbuttoned his coat, removed his scarf-sling and unbuckled his sword-belt and his stock. The Countess helped him to take off his coat, which was difficult as he had put his injured arm in the sleeve and the bandages made it a tight fit. She took it off the right arm first and then coaxed it off the left arm very gently, hardly hurting him at all. His shirt came off in the same way.