Well, yes, said the Father Superior, pleased.
On the other hand it is worrying.
Worrying? said the Father Superior.
To see how much the icons mean to them.
He was looking at the large space that had been occupied by the One-Legged Lady. Many of the pilgrims went straight up to it and behaved as if the icon was still there. They bent their heads, their lips moved in prayer and often they would gaze as if they could see it. Some even kissed the ground in front of it.
They went out into the courtyard. It was packed with pilgrims. As they came through the gates they divided into several streams. One headed straight for the Chapel, another, carrying packs, made for the dormitory. Yet another went to the kitchens.
Where do they all come from? asked Volkov.
Oh, everywhere, said the Father Superior. And not just the province, either.
Where do you come from, friend?
Volkov asked one of the pilgrims, a tall, bearded, wasted man.
Tula, brother, said the man.
Ah, Tula? said Volkov. And why have you come down here?
To pray, brother. And to look for succour.
Succour?
Its been a bad year up there. The crops have failed again
And you, friend? he asked another man. Where do you come from?
Galich. Its near Tula
Dmitri detached himself and started making his way across the yard to the gate-house. On his way he passed a group of men squatting down, oblivious to the snow, their backs against a wall, talking. Among them was the big peasant who had accosted the Father Superior on Dmitris first visit. The man looked up and saw him.
Still here, then? said Dmitri.
Well, theres not much point in going back to Tula, is there? With me away, what food there is will go further.
Theyll miss you, Ivan, said one of the men squatting beside him.
Do you think I dont know that? But at least if Im here theres a chance I could do something. Suppose the Old Lady turns up? Id be able to get on to her right away.
Therell be plenty of others doing that.
Yes, but I cant just sit at home doing nothing. Im not made like that. I cant just sit there watching them fade away before my eyes!
Youve got to practise patience, brother. God will provide.
Yes, but Hes not provided yet, has He? And if He doesnt start doing it soon, its going to be too late. Now, what I reckon is this: Hes a loving God, isnt He, and if He knew about it, Hed do something about it. So it stands to reason He cant have heard about it, and thats very understandable because Hes got the whole world to think about and its easy to miss a few corners. But, you see, thats just where the Old Lady comes in. Shed be there, knock-knock-knocking on the door, nagging away all the time, just like my old woman, and in the end Hed just have to hear, wouldnt He? And what I reckon is, concluded the big peasant, thats why theyve taken her away.
Youve lost me, Ivan, said someone beside him, who had been listening hard. If shes the one who could get through to Him, why would they want to take her away?
Because they dont want her to get through to Him.
The whole group was listening.
Why wouldnt they want that, Ivan?
Because theyre mean bastards, thats why. And because this way theyve got us where they want us: on our back with their thumbs on our wind-pipe!
Theyre not that bloody mean, are they?
They bloody are!
I dont reckon you ought to talk like that, Ivan, said someone uneasily, seeing the blue tunic and while gloves coming across the yard.
Im not afraid of him! said Ivan.
No, said someone who evidently knew the family, but you are afraid of Agafa, arent you, and shell be up your backside if she hears youve got yourself arrested just when shes sick and needs you!
She certainly will! said a deep voice behind them. It was Father Sergei.
And theyre quite right: youre needed at home! So lets be off with you!
He bent down and with surprising strength yanked the big peasant to his feet.
I cant go empty-handed! protested Ivan.
Whos talking about going home empty-handed? You come with me to the kitchens and Ill get Father Osip to fill up a sack for you!
He shepherded the big man dexterously away.
Anyway, muttered one of the men as they watched them go, I reckon youre up the creek, Ivan; about them taking the Old Girl, I mean. Shed be far too fly for them. I dont think theyve got her at all. I reckon shes well on her way to Opona by now.
You men, said Volkov, where do you come from?
Tula, they said.
Arent there monasteries up there?
Theres the Kaminski, said someone.
Whats wrong with the Kaminski? said Volkov. Why arent you going there?
Because the Old Lady is down here, said one of the men. Or should be.
She used to be up there, another man said. But then she was brought here.
Why was that?
I dont know, said the man. It seems daft to me. Tula is where she belongs.
If she was up there, said another man, we wouldnt be down here. Wed be going to the Kaminski.
And what would you be doing with her? said Volkov.
Doing with her? said the man, surprised. Nothing. Wed be praying to her, I suppose.
Its what shed be doing for us, said someone, not what wed be doing with her.
And what would she be doing for you?
Putting a word in, said one of the men.
You see, Your Excellency, someone explained, words not getting through at the moment. Not up in Tula, I mean. God doesnt hear us. Theres terrible famine in the province and
The Tsar hears you, asserted Volkov.
His listeners seemed unconvinced.
Dmitri followed Father Sergei and Ivan to the kitchen. The way was blocked by a massive farm cart. On top of the cart was a large square behind dressed in a faded red skirt. The behind heaved and a shower of cabbages descended into a wicker-work basket that a man was holding beside the cart. They hit the basket like blocks of ice, which they almost were, having been dug out of a snow-covered heap only that morning. The woman straightened and Dmitri saw that her hands and forearms were bare.
Cold work. Mother, he said
The woman looked down.
Not if you keep busy, she said. You must try it some time, young Barin!
She roared with laughter and bent down into the cart again. Another shower of cabbages hit the basket.
Is that about it? said the man below.
He took the basket away into the kitchens and the woman climbed down on to the ground.
Who are you, then? she said to Dmitri. You dont look as if you belong here.
Im from the Court House at Kursk, said Dmitri.
Oh, youre after the One-Legged Lady, are you? Well, you wont find her here. Shell be half way to Opona by now. Or else that daft old monk has got her tucked away somewhere and forgotten where he put her!
The man came back, this time carrying a glass of tea.
Thisll warm you up, Grusha, he said.
Itd warm me up even more if it had a spot of something in it, she said.
The man laughed and took the glass away.
Youre in here every week, are you? said Dmitri.
Thats right.
Are there many other carts coming and going?
Not at this time of year. Theres Nikita Pulov bringing logs but apart from that She thought, and shook her head. More in the summer, of course. Sometimes you cant get into the yard for them. Them and sleighs.
Do you ever get asked to take things out? asked Dmitri.
The old woman looked at him shrewdly.
I wonder what youre thinking of? she said. Then she laughed. No such luck! If theyd asked me, Id have jumped at it. You dont get much for cabbages, you know. Not from this mean lot!
Whos a mean lot? said the man, returning. Does that mean you dont want this glass, then?
The old woman grabbed it.
Thats better!
Id hope so. I put two spots in that, Grusha!
Youre all right, she said. Its the fathers Im talking about.
Its true they dont throw their money around, the man acknowledged.
Except when it comes to tarting the place up, said Grusha, looking up at the onions sparkling in the sunlight.
Dmitri found Father Sergei and the big peasant in the kitchen holding a sack.
Bread wont do, the peasant was saying. It wont last.
I was thinking of grain.
Will he go along with that? He is a mean old skinflint.
Hell go along with it, all right. Hes a country boy like yourself. Comes from Bushenko. He knows what grain means.
Well
Father Sergei looked up and saw Dmitri.
You go on in there and ask him, he said, giving the peasant a push. And then be on your way! Oh, and drop in at the gate-house on your way out. Ive got a few things Id like you to deliver. My people come from up there, he explained to Dmitri.
Ivan ambled out through the door.
Now, said Father Sergei, turning to Dmitri. What can I do for you?
Vehicles, said Dmitri. Going in and out. Especially out. Even more especially, on the day after the Icon was stolen.
Dmitri went round to the back of the building, where he found a cart standing beside a log shed. The cart was empty except for a few odd bits of kindling and some wood shavings in the bottom but two or three oblong wooden frames, as for windows, were leaning against it.
A boy came out of the shed.
Peter knocks them up for the mill, he said, seeing Dmitri looking at the frames, and Nikita takes them back in his cart.
Im looking for Nikita, said Dmitri.
Theyre in the Chapel, said the boy. If youd like to come with me, Barin
He took Dmitri through the shed. Logs, some birch, some pine, were piled high to the ceiling. Drops of gum glistened on the pine like ice and the air was pungent with the smell of resin. At the far end of the shed was a carpenters bench. They scuffed through shavings.
They went out of a door and then across a little closed in yard, and then along dark cold corridors until they emerged in the main yard not far from the door of the Chapel.
Dmitri went in with a group of pilgrims.
Wheres the Old Lady, then? said one man as they went through the door into the darkness and the candle-light.
Someone pointed to the space left by the missing icon. The group went up to it and stood for a moment before it.
This wont do, one of them said.
Reluctantly, they divided up and went to the other icons.
Its not the same, grumbled one as they went out.
The door closed behind them and the shadows recomposed themselves.
Its not healthy, said a voice suddenly.
Dmitri turned. It was Volkov.
What isnt?
This attachment. He surveyed the wistful, candle-lit faces on the iconostasis. Maybe its a good thing shes gone missing, he said.
Dmitri had thought they were alone in the Chapel but then behind the iconostasis there was the shuffling of feet. A door opened and the carpenter and another man came through dragging a curious wooden structure behind them. They saw Volkovs uniform and froze.
The carpenter, said Dmitri. And youre Nikita? he said to the other man.
Your Honour, managed the man, hardly able to speak.
Hes the carter, said Dmitri, he brings logs in to the Monastery. And what do you take out? he asked the man.
Take out. Your Honour?
He doesnt take out anything, said the carpenter.
I saw some frames?
Oh, those. Its a bit of a sideline. Your Honour. When theyve got a big job on. I sometimes help them out.
Whats this? said Dmitri, looking at the contraption they were supporting.
Its for the Old Lady, Your Honour. When she gets back.
The Old Lady? said Volkov. The Icon?
Thats right, Your Honour. Its for when they want to carry her. You see, shes very big and heavy, and if you tried to lift her up on to your shoulders, so that everyone could get a good look at her, youd never manage it. Shed be too much for you. So what Ive done is build a frame, which makes it a bit easier. Ive put a couple of long struts on the back so that those behind can take a bit of the weight
One of the struts needs a bit of work on it, said the carter, finding his voice. Otherwise we wont be able to carry her out at Easter.
Out? said Volkov.
Yes, Your Honour. In the Easter processions, we go round all the villages and
Out? said Volkov. You take her out?
As they were leaving the Chapel, Father Kiril came towards them, eyes blazing.
Keep them in chains, I say, he said. Keep them in chains!
Oh, yes?
Thats what youve got to do. Otherwise theyre up to no end of tricks. Down in the field, Ive seen them. At it!
Yes, well,
Theyre all the same. Give them half a chance. He nodded towards the space on the iconostasis. Shes no different.
She?
They took the chains off her. That was their mistake. Shes no different from any of the others. Take the chains off them and off they go. Down to the fields.
Ye-es, said Volkov, edging away.
There was a sudden commotion at the gates. Old Grushas cart, on its way out, had skidded. The wheels had slipped round and into a snowdrift and now the cart was trapped against one of the posts.
Its those damned fools there! Old Grusha was shouting, pointing at a group of pilgrims. They wouldnt get out of the way! Youve got no more sense than the horse, you havent! Do you think it can skip around like you can when its pulling a bloody great wagon? You
Grusha, Grusha! chided Father Sergei, running out of the gate-house.
Ill break their bloody necks! shouted Grusha, jumping down.
One of the pilgrims caught her.
Father ? he looked at Father Sergei.
Just get her out of the way! said another of the pilgrims. Well sort this out in a second.