[Illustration]
Early Saturday morning Kamov was due to call with provisions. Turgen
knew that he had a credit with the merchant amounting to more than
three hundred roubles. Add to this the value of the pelts he had on
hand, and the sum would be about five hundred roubles. A lot of money.
It would buy not only necessary supplies but dress goods for Marfa and
the children.
“It might be well also,” he thought, “to get another cow and a good
horse.” For though he reasoned with himself against the marriage, he
could not give up hope. The merchant was a man to be trusted. He would
ask his advice.
That night Turgen tossed in his sleep and his dreams were troubled. He
dozed, wakened, dozed again and heard himself mutter: “But I cannot let
the poor creatures starve in order to convince stupid people that I am
not a friend of the devil. What kind of happiness would I have? No and
no!”
And then to his surprise he saw Lad at the door of the yurta, looking
at him with affection and saying in a human voice: “Why don’t you
sleep, Turgen? You know that I and my parents, and indeed the entire
herd, are praying for you. Sleep. All will be well.”
Turgen sprang from his bed, rubbed his eyes and looked around the
yurta. No one was there. Logs crackled in the komelek, the room was
warm and snug. Stepping outside the door he looked at the moon and
stars, worlds away, making bright patterns in the night-black sky. A
wonder, but distant from his thoughts just now. “Merciful God,” he
whispered as he turned back, “what is wrong with me? Am I ill that such
strange things haunt me?”
Suddenly something came over him, a feeling of peace and well-being
which seemed to promise that though he could not know the answers to
all his questioning, they would be revealed in good time. The Great
Spirit was on guard and would see to it. So, reassured, he fell asleep.
When Kamov arrived in the morning, Turgen greeted him cordially and
set about preparing refreshments. Outwardly he was calm but he had
difficulty keeping mind on what the merchant was saying. Once he caught
himself hanging an empty kettle over the fire, and nothing he wanted
was in its usual place.
Kamov could not help noticing Turgen’s distraction. Perhaps the man was
ill--worried. To live too much alone was bad. The merchant respected
the Lamut and liked him. He remembered with gratitude how once Turgen
had cured him of acute stomach pains, and he would return the favor if
he could. But it is not the habit of northern people to pry. There is a
right and a wrong time to ask questions.
So the two men ate while they exchanged news of no importance.
Afterwards they settled back to enjoy their pipes. From behind a cloud
of smoke Kamov spoke.
“You know, Turgen, you have a considerable sum of money with me.
Hundreds of roubles. Why don’t you spend some of it?”
“Yes ... Well ... I have everything I need....” Turgen stopped, not
knowing how to tell the merchant what was in his mind. “However, I have
been thinking of making quite a large purchase.”
Kamov saw that the conversation was taking an important turn.
Cautiously feeling his way, he said:
“I mention this because we are living at God’s mercy. If I should
die, no one would know how much I owe you. For I carry everything in
my head. You know yourself that most of the hunters are in my debt.
And your case is special. I should not like to go before God owing
you so much. It happens that I have brought with me a great deal of
merchandise. Friend, take as much as you like.”
“Why talk of death?” Turgen answered. “May God grant you many summers
and winters of life in good health. It is already more than thirty
winters that I have been dealing with you and I am not complaining.
Besides, who of us knows whose turn will come first?”
Kamov sighed, “Nor am I complaining. My health and business are very
good. I won’t hide it from you. I make a fair profit, and without
cheating. Maybe that is why God has blessed me with a comfortable
living and a fine family. I am surprised that you go on living alone.
It must be hard--ay?”
It was this question that Turgen needed to unlock his thoughts. He
took a long pull at his pipe before he replied: “It is difficult, very
difficult. But a change is about to take place in my life....”
Carefully he told the merchant all about Marfa and the children, and
how happy he would be to have a family except that he feared the
ill-will of the Yakuts in the valley would spoil everything.
“You know yourself,” he concluded, “that I am not a sorcerer. I
believe in God. I had thought to purchase quite a lot of your wares,
also to ask where I could get a good horse and cow. Then my household
would be complete. But what about this feeling about me? What was bad
before will be doubly bad if I have a family. I want to explain all
this to Marfa, but I don’t know how. God forbid, she might think me a
coward and afraid of responsibility. You are a wise man ... what do you
advise?”
Kamov leisurely emptied the ashes from his pipe, was silent a moment
and then said:
“You ask for advice? I’ll give it gladly. But this matter isn’t as
simple as it seems. It needs explaining. Yes, I’ve heard the gossip
about you--such lies I wonder anyone can believe them. You should have
spoken to me before. Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know,” Turgen admitted. “But a man is ashamed to be thought a
partner of the devil.”
Kamov scratched the back of his head as he considered this.
“It is and it isn’t a matter for laughing. When I was young and a
hunter, a bear once rumpled me badly. But the wounds healed long ago
and now I feel no pain at all. Yet human tongues speaking evil can
inflict wounds no medicines will heal....”
He paused, filled his pipe and lit it. Suddenly a smile broke over his
face. “My friend, I have found a way out for you! Why didn’t I think of
it before? It is so very simple.”
Excited, Turgen jumped to his feet. “Then tell me. Help me.”
“Of course ... of course,” Kamov said reassuringly.
He rose, paced back and forth for a minute, and stroked his forehead as
if gathering his thoughts together.
“Turgen, you know that the Yakuts are like children. It is easy to lead
them astray with lying words. But no one can doubt that they believe
in God and fear the devil. No one. They are all Christians even though
many of them still run to the shamanists. It was the shamanist who did
you the greatest harm--because he was jealous of you. The people came
to you for advice and to be cured and you helped them without charge.
This took business away from him.”
“Maybe,” Turgen admitted.
“Believe me, it was so,” Kamov said positively. “And for that reason
the shamanist spread foolish tales about you--how with the devil’s help
you were able to make friends with the mountain rams. The simple people
could believe such nonsense because rams are known to hate the scent
of human beings--so why would they eat the food you brought?... No, the
Yakuts are stupid no doubt, but not evil. They just believed the first
thing they heard. Now--”
Kamov paused dramatically.
“My idea is this. The Yakuts are Christians. They believe in God. You
and Marfa are Christians. That being so, you must be married in the
Christian manner. You see how simple it is. Once you are joined in
God’s temple by a priest, who will sprinkle you with holy water and
give you the Gospel and the Cross to touch, not a soul will dare to say
that you are a friend of the devil. Believe me, faith and prayer--they
are the best answer to slander. Do you understand?”
Turgen nodded. “I feel that you speak the truth, Kamov. Tell me, what
must I do? Go to a priest? That will be about sixty miles, but I can do
it easily on my skis. What shall I say to him? I have never in my life
had anything to do with a priest. And this is a delicate subject....
Teach me, my friend!”
Kamov patted Turgen on the shoulder, pleased to have his advice so
well received. “Don’t excite yourself. You need do nothing. I will see
to everything myself. The priest is a friend of mine. You will make
a donation to the church and pay the trifling expenses--that is all.
Thank God you are not a poor man.... And now we must set a day for
the wedding. What would you say to Sunday, two weeks from now? Time is
needed for preparations, and I want to spread news of the wedding among
the valley people. Father Peter, as you know, is greatly respected. I
shall tell the Yakuts, too,” Kamov added with a sly wink, “that I will
be your best man. Popov can give the bride away. Everyone looks up to
him, and besides he lives close to the chapel. Do you agree?”
“I agree to everything. Thank you. Thank you,” said Turgen gratefully.
“Well, then, all is settled. Just don’t say anything to Marfa. I will
see Popov at once, and arrange for a party at his house after the
wedding. He’s a good man and I do a lot of business with him. He won’t
refuse. About the cow--we will buy that from Popov. One hand washes the
other, you know.” Here Kamov winked at Turgen again. “As for the horse,
that will be my present, as best man, to you. But there is one thing I
ask of you.”
“Yes, yes,” Turgen interrupted. “Anything.”
“I know that you are not a drinking man, Turgen. Perhaps you do not
approve of others drinking. But the Yakuts will not think it possible
to celebrate an occasion as important as a wedding without both prayer
and vodka. Nothing too gay because you aren’t young any more. Just
enough to wet their throats and lighten their hearts.”
Turgen smiled. “Why not? I have no objection. I do not drink because
many years ago I took a little too much of the poison, and when
returning home I lost my way, fell into a hole and almost froze to
death. That experience taught me a lesson, and I promised my wife that
never again would I touch a drop of the stuff. However, it is not for
me to sit in judgment upon others. Our guests must be free to do as
they please.”
“Good!” Kamov exclaimed. “That’s a sensible and just way to look at it.”
Kamov remembered at this point that his horses had not been fed or
watered.
“It’s a pull up the mountain, too,” he explained, “though fortunately
the snow is not deep. Come help me bring the merchandise indoors where
you can examine it. If I don’t have everything you want with me, I’ll
get it from my store and send it direct to Marfa.”
As Turgen selected from Kamov’s stores all the things he wanted for
Marfa and the children and the new home they would have together there
was joy in his heart. Thinking of the pleasure his purchases would
bring, he considered that he was performing one of the most important
acts of his lifetime. And this feeling of exaltation stayed with him
long after Kamov had left.
“No, the world is not lacking in kind people,” he reflected. “How good
it is to open one’s heart to a friend.” Truly it was a miracle that
the Great Spirit had sent Lad in the night with the promise that all
would be well. And how comforting to know that he, Turgen, did not bear
his responsibility alone, but that Someone greater and wiser than he
commanded his life.
He did his chores that evening as if wings lent lightness to his feet.
After emptying the nets and snares of game, he rushed to feed his rams.
“Eh, my darlings, if you could only know how happy I am!” he called.
But the herd did not show itself.
Then before re-entering his yurta, he stopped by the grave of his wife
and son. “Long ago you went away from me, but still you are close,” he
addressed them, and his words were a prayer. “This is the place above
all places where I find peace. I have come to you often with my grief,
so now let me come to you with my joy. Give me your blessing, that I am
to be alone no longer. What have I done to deserve this I do not know,
but who does know the Great Spirit or the extent of His generosity? May
His grace be with us all, forever.”
Such a day must be concluded in a fitting manner, so Turgen got out
his reed and played and played until it seemed the walls of the yurta
could not contain so much melody. He sang of hope and joy and beauty
and peace of soul. And finally he slept dreamlessly, hearing still the
music of his own creation.