What other considerations?
Well, the Mitkins are a good family. Poor nobility. Noble on the mothers side, that is but poor. Mitkins often said to me that getting the Governorship was the saving of him. Marputin, on the other hand, is the son of a serf. Pots of money but no birth at all. So it suits everybody. Except Ludmilla, of course.
Ludmilla?
Shes the daughter.
The Father Superior was taking Dmitri to the Monastery gates.
Theyre closed at night?
Always.
The problem as I see it, said Dmitri was not so much taking the One-Legged Lady down Father Kiril allowed for as getting her out.
The black smudge outside the gates had dissolved. A steady stream of pilgrims was crossing the yard and going into the main buildings. A smaller stream was heading for the Chapel: and there was another, countervailing stream going out through the gates.
That may well have been the way she went, said Dmitri.
You dont think Father Sergei might have noticed, asked the Father Superior, if someone had gone out carrying a six-feet by four-feet icon?
Father Sergei? said Dmitri.
Hes in the gate-house, said the Father Superior.
Well, I dont know why he should say that, said Father Sergei, surprised. Other than his normal dislike of me.
He spoke of another monastery.
Is he still harping on that? Father Sergei shrugged. Well its true I came here from somewhere else. But that was fifteen years ago. You would have thought that after all these years He shrugged again. But that is Father Afanesi for you!
What monastery did you come from?
The Kaminski. Its near Tula. Father Sergei smiled. Where the One-Legged Lady originally came from.
Perhaps thats something to do with it?
Well, its true that they would like her back. It was a smart move of Father Grigori he was Superior here at the time to snap her up. But the Kaminski needed the money. She was paid for fair and square and, really, theyve no cause for complaint. In any case, theyd hardly go to the length of stealing
The Father Superior had gone back to his room. Dmitri returned, cautiously he had no wish to run into Father Kiril or Father Afanesi again to the Chapel. He was looking again at the links when a carpenter came in and dumped a bag of tools down in front of the iconostasis.
So she has gone! he said, looking at the gap on the screen. Well, Im not surprised. I reckon she upped and walked away in shock.
Why would she do that?
Because of what they were doing to her.
What were they doing to her?
Making money out of her. Making money left, right and centre. And I dont reckon she liked it. I mean, it wasnt what she was used to, was it? I mean, up in Tula it was the other way round. She was on the side of the poor, then, wasnt she? Well, I tell you this, Barin, shes not been on the side of the poor down here. Shes been on the side of the bleeding rich!
The pilgrims dont look very rich to me, said Dmitri.
Not the pilgrims, although some of them have got more than they let on. No, the Monastery! See, everyone who comes puts a kopeck or two into the box and if youve got lots and lots of people coming, in the end it adds up to lots and lots of kopecks. And it doesnt go back to the poor, either. Do you know what it goes on? That roof. Now, Im all for a lick of paint. I think it freshens things up; but the amount thats gone on that roof! And you dont have to go all the way to Tula, either, to find people who could have done with some of that.
The bottom of the Icon had rested on a thick ledge which at one end had come away from the iconostasis.
Now there was no need to do that, was there? grumbled the carpenter. They could have just lifted her down.
He knelt down and began working.
I can do it, he said. Theres no problem about that. But what it needs is a proper base. If Ive told them that once, Ive told them a thousand times. But will they do anything about it? No, not they!
He sat back on his heels and looked up at Dmitri.
Mean as flint, they are. Do you know what Nikita Pulov was telling me the other day?
Whos Nikita Pulov?
Hes the carter. Comes in twice a week. Would come in more often if theyd have him. Well, do you know what he was saying? He was saying that the other day when he was here, his horse drops a turd, and the next moment one of the fathers is out there with his shovel. I want that for my garden, he says. Your gardens four feet deep in snow! says Nikita. Itll melt, wont it? says the father. I tell you theyre after the dung even before the horse shits it!
Yes, well, said Dmitri.
Do you know what I reckon has happened to the Icon?
No?
I reckon theyve sold it.
Sold it!
Yes. To fetch a rouble or two. For the Monastery.
But I thought you said it was making them a lot of money?
Yes, but shes been here a long time. There comes a time when you want something fresh. Now, what I reckon is that theyve sold her and very soon theyll start saying: Oh dear, the Old Ladys gone for good. Well have to start looking around for something to go in her place. And all the time theyll have had their eye on something else, another icon maybe, or perhaps a holy relic, and theyll get it and put it in here, and the pilgrims will start flocking, and theyll say, Ah, well, reckon it was for the best, after all. Its a business to them, you see, and thats the way it is with business. Now you and I, Your Honour, may think we know a thing or two about business, but, believe me, were like newly hatched chicks compared with them. Sharp as knives and about as much feeling. Theyll have been looking on her as a carter looks on a horse: get what you can out of her and then get rid of her. So thats whats happened, I reckon. Theyve gone and sold her. Either that, said the carpenter with grim satisfaction, or shes seen it coming and bloody well walked out on them!
So what are your impressions? asked the Father Superior, as they were walking across the yard to the sleigh.
Oh, mixed, said Dmitri. Mixed.
A monastery is like that, said the Father Superior fondly.
One of the pilgrims, a large man in peasant shirt and peasant boots, accosted them.
I dont like it, Father! he said.
Dont like what?
This business of the Icon. If you ask me, its not accidental.
What do you mean, its not accidental?
I reckon its deliberate. Taking her away just when shes needed.
What are you talking about?
Well, Ive come here all the way from Tula especially to ask her something and when I get here, shes not here!
You can ask some other icon, cant you? Weve got plenty.
Ah, but shes a bit different from other icons, isnt she? She knows what its all about. She did something for people, didnt she? When they were starving. Well, I come from Tula, and we couldnt half do with her now, I can tell you, because were starving again!
The Father Superior tried to push past.
Try some other icon. Or stay here for a day or two. We hope to have her back soon.
I cant stay here. Not for long, anyway. Ive got a wife and children at home. My wifes sick, otherwise shed have come herself. I cant go, Ivan, she said, so youll have to. I know its not your way, but weve got to do something and I cant think of anything else. So Ive come, even though its not my way. Besides, I thought the Old Girl might listen to me, she knows how it is for people like me. And now Ive got here, she isnt here!
Well, Im sorry about that, said the Father Superior. Were doing all we can. This gentleman here he indicated Dmitri is from the Court House at Kursk and hes going to look into the matter.
Ah, but is he? said the peasant.
What do you mean? said Dmitri. Am I?
Beg pardon, Your Honour, but you people stick together. It might not be worth your while to look too closely.
Why wouldnt it be worth my while?
Because theyre all in it together, Tsar, Church, Governor, all of them!
You watch your words, my man! warned the Father Superior.
Theyre not just my words, theyre what everyone is saying.
The Father Superior turned on him.
Enough of that sort of talk! You go and find a Father and tell him I told you to have a few words with him!
Well, I will: but thats not going to bring me bread, is it?
What you need is not bread but straightening out!
Dmitri had an unusual feeling as the sleigh approached Kursk; he felt that he was returning to civilization. This was not how he usually felt about Kursk. Dmitri was all for the bright lights of St Petersburg; and light of any sort, in his view, had yet to reach Kursk. Nevertheless, as the sleigh drew up in front of the Court House, he felt a twinge of, well, not quite affection for the city, more the feeling that a sailor has when after long months he returns to the land. Kursk, though on the very edge, was at least on land; whereas the Monastery was very definitely at sea.
Oh, that icon business, said the Procurator dismissively when Dmitri went in to see him. I wouldnt spend too much time on that if I were you.
Which accorded pretty well with Dmitris own intentions.
Boris Petrovich pushed a pile of papers towards him.
These have just come in, he said. Will you take a look at them? I am going out to lunch.
The Procurator was always going out to lunch.
In our position, he told Dmitri, it is important to keep a finger on the social pulse.
Vera Samsonova, the junior doctor at the local hospital, said she knew what that meant and that if Boris Petrovich tried putting his finger on her pulse again, shed stick a syringe in him.
To Dmitris surprise, however, he himself was invited out to lunch. To his even greater surprise, the invitation came from the Governor, whom Dmitri had hitherto supposed to be entirely unaware of his existence.
Mr Kameron? said the tall dark girl standing beside him. What sort of a name is that?
Scottish, said Dmitri. My great-great-grandfather came from Scotland.
But how romantic! cried the girl.
Kameron? said the Governors wife. Is that the Kamerons of Gorny Platok?
Why, yes! said Dmitri, amazed that anyone had heard of the small farm where his grandfather presently resided. The estate had once been larger but successive generations of spendthrift Kamerons had sold off land until his grandfather had put his foot down and insisted that henceforth male Kamerons should work for a living.
Then we have something in common, said the Governors wife, giving Dmitri her arm and leading the way into lunch. Our side of the family have always been gentlemen.
But Mr Kameron no longer lives on his estate. Mother, said the tall dark girl. He is a lawyer.
Well one has to be something. I suppose.
And how do you find the law, Mr Kameron? asked the dark girl.
It is at an interesting stage in Russia at the moment. Miss Mitkin. It could go either forward or backward. Until recently, as Im sure you know, the only law we had was what the Tsar decreed.
Well, isnt that enough? said the Governors wife.
Not always. What if the Tsar himself does something wrong?
But is that likely?
Not the Tsar himself, perhaps; but what about those who serve him?
The Government, you mean?
Possibly.
Governors? said the Governor.
Well
These are radical notions, Mr Kameron, said the Governor heavily.
Mr Kameron is, of course, very young, said the Governors wife.
But in touch with the new tone of the times, dont you think? said her daughter.
Ah, the tone of the times! said the Governors wife, steering the conversation into safer channels.
After lunch the two women retired and the Governor led Dmitri into a pleasant room which seemed to serve as a second sitting room. Its walls were covered with icons.
Quite nice, arent they? said the Governor, seeing, and mistaking, Dmitris interest.
And some of them are not without value. Theyre all domestic icons, of course. Not, he smiled, like the Lady whose acquaintance you have recently been making.
2
Dmitri Alexandrovich, said the Governor in a fatherly tone, a little more cognac? are you religious?
The question caught Dmitri off guard. The fact was that this was a tricky point in the Kameron family. For generations the Kamerons, as loyal servants of the Tsar, had been members of the Orthodox Russian Church. Then with Dmitris grandfather the line had hiccuped. Awkward as always, he had announced that he had become a Freethinker, with the result that he had been dismissed from the Tsars service. His son, awkward, too, and determined, as all male Kamerons, to quarrel with his father, had conversely announced his return to the faith; only the faith that he had elected to return to was that of his Scottish ancestors. Since, however, there were no Presbyterian churches in Russia at the time, the genuineness of his return had not been able to be tested and while the Tsars officials were working this out he had been allowed to continue in the Tsars service and had been still serving at the time of his unfortunately early death. All this had left Dmitri in some difficulty as to his own position.
Well
My advice, said the Governor, another cognac? is to leave unto God the things that are Gods and unto man the things that are mans.
Seems reasonable, said Dmitri.
That is what it says in the Bible. Or more or less. And I have always found it a sound maxim to follow. At least as far as the Russian Church is concerned.
Good idea, said Dmitri. The last cognac had left him rather blurred.
I commend the principle to you as a good one to adopt. Especially in the case of the One-Legged Lady.
But thats just what has not happened! cried Dmitri. Man has just walked in and helped himself to