Flight From the Eagle Read online

  In the morning, Kusminsky came to look at him and said he thought he would probably pull through. 'Unless...' he added. 'Unfortunately, there are too many unlesses... gangrene, blood-poisoning, another knock to start the bleeding again. Still, he's a pretty tough man. I don't think he'll be all that easy to kill off.'

  The Countess gave him a wan smile and allowed Josef to take her place while she went to have her breakfast.

  Kolniev was worried about continuing the journey. 'I think we ought to go on,' he said. 'We're still too near the French line of march if they're going on towards Moscow. I wish we knew where they are! Do you think the Major can travel?'

  Kusminsky shrugged. 'As long as he's not thrown about. Lash his stretcher down in a cart, tie him onto it and he should be all right. I expect he'll turn feverish soon, so someone should be with him.'

  After a moment's reflection, Kolniev suggested that the cart the Countess normally drove would be the best one and he thought that now Sergeant Platov's shoulder was so much better, he might drive and leave the Countess free to be with Orlov.

  She agreed and Kolniev went to have part of the cart's load shifted. When he returned, he said, 'We can't go just yet. Some of the men have just found Grushchev. He's hanged himself.'

  'Just as well,' replied Kusminsky. 'The fellow's stark mad, I think. Anyway, he'd have been sentenced to death if he stood trial.'

  'I don't think the Major would have liked the idea of a trial and he'd have liked the sentence even less,' said Kolniev. 'Anyway, we'll have to bury him and that'll take a little time. No ceremony—the men won't have it, they're too angry about what he did.'

  The Countess said nothing but returned to the tent, sitting by Orlov until the stretcher-bearers came to carry him to the cart. Kolniev saw to the business of tying the stretcher securely and the Countess made herself comfortable beside him. The procession formed up and jolted slowly across the grass and back onto the road.

  The big grey was tied on behind one of the carts with the other spare horses and Sergeant Platov turned round on the box of the cart to look down at Orlov's still figure on the stretcher. He said, 'It don't seem right, not to see him up there on that grey, riding along in front. It don't seem right at all.' The corporal sitting beside him nodded agreement .mil they drove along in gloomy silence.

  Towards the end of the morning, with the sun nearly at Its hottest and the dust hanging thick in the still air, Orlov made a faint sound and moved his head. The Countess bent over him and felt his forehead. It was dry and burning and he moved his head fretfully, moaning.

  The Countess called Kusminsky who rode up beside the cart and looked over the side at his patient. 'Is his head hot?' he asked.

  'Yes, but he's not sweating.'

  'He'll start getting restless soon. Don't let him thresh about. If he does, we'll have to tie him down or he'll move that arm, and it's best kept still.' Kusminsky remained beside the Cart, glancing frequently at Orlov, who continued to move his head restlessly from time to time and to make small moaning sounds.

  At the midday break the cart stood in the shade and they Blade no attempt to move him. The Countess asked Josef for a bucket of water, bathed Orlov's hot face and smoothed his thick curls, which promptly sprang back into their usual disorder. Kolniev brought her some food and remained to eat his own, perched on the side of the cart, looking hot, tired and anxious. He asked the Countess how she was and she replied, 'I'm a little stiff and dusty. Would you mind staying with him while I wash and walk about a little?'

  She went across to the stream which had been the reason their choice of stopping place and washed her face, but returned to the cart straight away, remaining there quietly by the stretcher until it was time to go on.

  As the day wore on, Orlov's fever increased a little and he became restless, bin did not attempt to move any more than his head. The Countess drowsed beside him, bathing his face from time to time and in between, held his right hand under the cover of the blanket which Kusminsky thought he should have over him, despite the heat. During the afternoon, they passed through an area of open country where there was another village, empty and burned as the first one had been. The black ruin had a depressing effect on the party's spirits, already low, and they went on into another belt of forest in a despondent silence.

  Camp for the night was made in the area of cleared land where a minor road crossed the one they were on. When the tents were up, Orlov was carried to his, still on the stretcher and still unconscious, feverish and deathly pale. Kusminsky went to him and, checking the condition of his arm, began to look a fraction more cheerful.

  When he had gone, Josef brought a bucket of water for the Countess and she retired with it to the part of the tent furthest from the entrance, hung up Orlov's cloak as a curtain and washed and changed her clothes. She paused to listen every time Orlov moaned and knelt beside him afterwards, stroking his hair until Kolniev came to keep watch while she had her supper.

  About half-an-hour later, he came over to the 'dining table' and said, 'I've left Josef with the Major. He's much more restless and I think he wants something.'

  'Any idea what?' asked Kusminsky.

  'It's not very clear. He keeps muttering something,' Kolniev said, looking worried. 'That's why I called Josef, to see if he could guess. I thought he might have some idea what it might be, but he can't understand either. We both thought it sounded like "sparrow", but that doesn't make sense.'

  The Countess got up and ran to the tent. When Kolniev and Kusminsky arrived a few seconds later, she was kneeling on the ground beside the stretcher and Orlov was lying quiet and still.

  'Well!' said Kusminsky. 'It looks as if he got his "sparrow", whatever it is. Did you know what he meant?' She simply replied 'Yes' without offering any explanation.

  Later, when everyone retired, she again slept close to the stretcher. She was woken at the very first glimmer of dawn by Orlov's restless tossing and muttering. She knelt beside him, keeping on his right side for fear of knocking his arm and whispered, 'It's all right—oh, please be still!' His forehead was still very hot. She stroked his hair, murmuring to him soothingly, and gradually he grew quieter. She pulled one of her blankets round her shoulders and sat watching his face until presently she dropped into a light sleep.

  She woke with a start to find that the daylight was growing stronger and that Orlov was lying with his eyes open, looking at her. She leant over him and he put his right arm round her, drawing her down until she was lying with her head on his shoulder. He laid his check against her hair and sighed.

  'Major Orlov?' she whispered.

  'Dear Sparrow!' he replied. 'It's getting light, isn't it?'

  'Yes, it's nearly sunrise. How are you?'

  He was silent for a moment and then said, 'Did the wound open again?'

  'Yes. Do you remember what happened?'

  'It was Grushchev—he wanted to kill Kusminsky. I remember trying to stop him. What happened then?'

  'He threw you against a tree, you went after him and then he knocked you down. The others caught him. Dr Kusminsky is quite safe.'

  He rubbed his face against her hair, then said, 'What about Grushchev?'

  'He—he hanged himself.'

  Orlov sighed again. She felt him relax, his breathing becoming more regular. After a while she carefully released herself from his encircling arm and sat up. He was sleeping naturally and when she felt his forehead, it was quite cool. She saw that the chalky pallor of his face had changed to a slightly more healthy look.

  He slept until the time came to put him on the cart again for the day's journey. The movement woke him, but when they had finished tying the stretcher securely in position, he turned a little on his right side and fell asleep again. Kusminsky had a look at the arm just before they started off and was actually whistling through his teeth as he mounted his horse.

  The weather seemed to be even hotter, the dust more irritating and gritty than ever. For part of the morning, they were moving across op
en country, with fields full of green oats and rye. There was no sign of life anywhere, except when once, in the distance, they saw a little group of about half-a-dozen serfs who watched them for a while and then ran off into the forest. The sun beat down on the awnings, and a tiny fitful breeze blew the dust about but failed to give any impression of coolness.

  Just after midday, they reached the village to which the fields belonged and found it completely deserted, but not yet set on fire. They stopped there for their usual break and Kolniev sent men to search the little wooden hovels, the barns and outhouses. They found very little of any use. The serfs seemed to have taken everything portable of value or use with them and the barns contained hardly anything except a few handfuls of hay and some poor quality oats.

  Kolniev wondered whether he should burn the place when they left. He consulted Orlov's map and decided that they must be halfway to Kaluga by now. Surely they must be far enough from the Moscow road to be beyond the reach of French foragers? That assumed, of course, that the enemy intended to go to Moscow. Perhaps they would move on Kaluga instead where there were a lot of stores and a major camp. Perhaps they were still in Smolensk, settling in for the winter. In the end, he tossed a coin and it indicated that the village should be left for the Cossacks to burn. Kolniev was relieved.

  Orlov woke up while they were resting and lay still for a time, looking round in a puzzled way. He felt utterly exhausted and it was quite five minutes before he could manage to sit up, holding onto the side of the cart. The sight of the deserted village gave him a feeling of disorientation—he felt sure he'd never seen it before—but then he saw the Countess and Kolniev sitting on the ground behind the cart, talking, and he realized that he must have been unconscious while the party had moved on without his knowledge.

  He started to speak and found that his voice was husky. He had to clear his throat and start again. At the sound, the two of them got up and came to him and the Countess got into the cart, gently pushing him back to lean against a sack which she pushed behind him to prop him up.

  'How are you?' asked Kolniev.

  Orlov frowned and tried to remember what had happened id him and suddenly recollection flooded back. 'Just a bit weak,' he replied. 'How long have I been out of action?'

  'About thirty-six hours,' Kolniev informed him. 'Do you remember what happened?'

  Orlov thought for a moment. 'Yes, it was Grushchev,' he replied. 'Did you say he hanged himself?' he asked the Countess, who inexplicably blushed. He puzzled over this. He could remember her voice telling him that the sergeant had hanged himself, but there didn't seem to be anything in that to make her color up.

  His thoughts were interrupted by Josef arriving with a bowl of broth and after an initial argument, which he lost, he leaned contentedly against the sack while the Countess spooned the food neatly into his mouth. It was all very pleasant, in a way. The pain in his arm was still there, of course, hut he was getting used to it and could almost forget it if he didn't move the arm.

  'What's in the sack?' he asked.

  'Oats.' Her whole attention seemed to be on the task of getting the next spoonful of broth into him without spilling any and he watched her face thoughtfully, his black brows quirking up in a puzzled frown. Why had she blushed?

  He continued to wonder from time to time all the rest of the day, whenever he was not asleep, listening to people talking or answering their inquiries about his welfare. The cart rolled along with an occasional jolt and a continual rhythmic creaking. The atmosphere seemed to grow more and more sultry and Orlov kept drifting into a doze, waking again to lie watching the shadows of the trees on the awning above his head, the horses drawing the cart behind or the Countess sitting beside him.

  Halfway through the afternoon, Kusminsky appeared alongside the cart and looked in at him. 'How are you now?' he asked. 'Don't tell me—perfectly all right, of course. You realize you've lost a lot more blood and broken half your stitches? You're a damned nuisance, Major Orlov, and I'd wash my hands of you entirely if I didn't have a strong suspicion that you saved my life. I'm very grateful to you.'

  Orlov realized that the surgeon's hectoring tone covered a great deal of feeling and replied in the same vein, 'I'd no wish to see you murdered—I might have to do all the bandaging myself if we lost you. How bad have I been?' The last question was quite serious, and so was Kusminsky's reply.

  'Not as bad as I feared. I managed to stop the bleeding pretty quickly, and you didn't have a very bad fever—only about twelve hours, and not too much tossing about. There was one bad spell last night, when you kept asking for something—Kolniev was with you and he couldn't make out what it was. Luckily, Countess Barova seemed to understand, and by the time I arrived, you were quiet again.'

  'What was it?' asked Orlov. 'I don't remember any of this.'

  'Sounded like "sparrow",' said Kusminsky. 'What do you think it was?'

  Orlov dared not look at the Countess or reply to Kusminsky's question. Instead, he began to sit up and complained that he was uncomfortable. In the resulting confusion of injunctions to keep still and attempts to make him more easy, Kusminsky appeared not to notice the oversight.

  When Orlov's position had been arranged to his satisfaction, Kusminsky instructed him not to try to do too much too soon. 'Not that you'll take any notice,' he added. 'You always do as you damned well please!' He snorted, and rode off in disgust as both the Countess and Orlov burst out laughing.

  CHAPTER NINE

  They made camp for the night in yet another glade in the interminable forest. Orlov watched the smooth routine with a curious sense of timelessness, feeling as if the whole business was some kind of a dream, an eternity of moving along the same dusty road to the same camp ground in endless repetition, totally removed from real life.

  The stretcher-bearers came to carry him to his tent but he refused indignantly to allow them to do so. Despite their protests, he hauled himself onto his feet and let them help him down out of the cart. Then he walked slowly across to the tent and sat down rather suddenly on a box outside it.

  There was an exclamation from inside. The Countess opened the flap and looked out at him, holding her dress in front of her. She was clearly in the middle of washing and changing her clothes and Orlov apologized for disturbing her.

  'Did you walk from the cart?' she asked.

  Orlov admitted that he had, and she said anxiously, 'Oh, do be careful! You've been very ill, you know, feverish, and quite delirious.'

  'So I gather. What else did I say?'

  'N-nothing,' the Countess stammered, blushing again.

  'What did I do, then?' His voice was suddenly sharp with anxiety. She met his eyes and saw the urgency in them.

  'Nothing very much. You put your arm round me, that's all,' she replied.

  'I'm sorry.'

  She smiled. 'It was nothing,' she assured him and retired inside the tent as Josef arrived with a bucket of water for Orlov to wash off the dust.

  He rested for a while after he had washed and changed, put on his coat against the evening chill (he had been in shirtsleeves all day), then walked slowly across to the 'dining table', which was set up under a nearby tree. Kusminsky watched him and refrained from comment, but Kolniev met him halfway and insisted on giving him an arm to lean on. Orlov sat down gingerly and leant against the tree trunk.

  'What progress have we made?' he asked.

  'We're about halfway,' Kolniev replied. He took the map out of his pocket and showed Orlov where he thought they were. The Countess came over and asked to see, so Orlov spread the map out on the ground and pointed out the course of the road, showing her the various points at which they had stopped. 'You see,' he said, tracing the Moscow road with his finger, 'we're gradually moving away from it, out of range of the French advance—if they are advancing.'

  She looked at the map, bending close to Orlov, and followed the line of the road they were on to Kaluga, and then moved her finger on to Ryazan. 'Is that where your sister is?' she ask
ed.

  Orlov peered closely at the map in the fading light and showed her the exact location of his home, just outside Ryazan. 'There,' he said, 'unless she's run off with a handsome hussar officer.'

  'Do you think she might?' The Countess sounded both alarmed and intrigued.

  'Well, she's an Orlov too!' he said slyly, and they both laughed.

  After the meal, Orlov felt so tired that he was glad to accept the support of Kolniev's arm again back to the tent where he turned in and fell asleep almost immediately. When the Countess came a short while later, she spread his greatcoat over the top of his blankets and touched the unruly mop of curls which Was the only part of him visible. He did not stir.

  A good night's sleep, after the amount of rest he had been able to take the day before, did a great deal to restore his energy. He found in the morning that he could walk about without much difficulty, although standing up after sitting or lying still made him feel dizzy.

  During breakfast he considered the possibility of riding, but he could see the big grey over in the picket line prancing about in a lively fashion and common sense told him that another day of riding in the cart would do him more good than trying to control an over-energetic mount. Despite his dislike of giving in to his own weakness, and the knowledge that the jolting progress of the vehicle was uncomfortable, somehow the prospect of sitting in the cart seemed curiously attractive.

  'You'll go in the cart today,' said Kusminsky, echoing his thoughts in a flat statement that brooked no contradiction. He looked surprised when Orlov meekly agreed and regarded him with some anxiety. 'How do you feel?' he asked.

  Orlov gave him a smile of bland innocence. 'Amenable and lazy,' he replied and laughed at the expression of suspicious disbelief on the surgeon's face.

  Kolniev seemed a little distracted when he appeared and Orlov asked him what was wrong. 'We're running a bit short of supplies,' he replied. 'Not desperately so yet, but we've only enough for a couple of days at the present rate. I've cut the horses' rations a little—I think we were over-feeding them. It would help if we could camp where there's some grass again. We're low on meat and fresh vegetables, though I suppose we could live on cheese and hard bread and dried peas until we get to Kaluga.'