Dedicated to the native home destroyed by builders
We are moving to the south, from river band and village of Terekhovo, where on the high bank, dense deciduous forest was turning into the genuine sacred place, extending to the Big Mozhaisk road. Green thicket, filled with light and sun, was turning gradually into the hundred–year-old oak log, where, according to legend, one powerful tree trunk grew with spreading crown reached the sky - precisely that one which people called as world's axis. They used to say, whoever comes here with bright thoughts, noble aspirations and good intentions will be glorified forever as hero, and whoever plans here meanness and evil will be punished hard; who dares to kill that oak for the sake of venal goals – will lose not only own future, but also will deprive future his descendants.
Young Russian tsar Pyotr Alekseevich with his retinue used to come here often, rafting boats on the Moscow River, visited his uncle Lev Kirillovich Naryshkin, his mother's brother, at this local estate, came to that oak and asked it for the country prosperity, was strengthened here by his hope and faith...
1705. SISTERS
– Masha, Masha-ah! He-yy! A-u-u! Come out, where have you disappeared! Come out immediately, or I'll never take you for a walk with me again! A-u-u!! Come out, naughty girl, or I will go home alone, horrible wolf will come and eat you! – young lady in thin lacing cap and light traveling frock with bulky knapsack tied behind her back called tirelessly around.
Desperate to find her little companion missing in the oak grove, she leaned wearily against clumsy tree trunk and said loudly:
– Well, that's good. Nice. Then I will eat all this berries myself! And cookies! And raspberry biscuit!
There was a movement at the bushes of walnut tree thicket and little snub-nosed naughty girl of about five years old in green canvas sundress, light leather boots, with wicker basket under her arm appeared.
– Give it to me! I want too! – she demanded.
– You are naughty, Masha. I won't give you anything, - young teacher was adamant, hiding food from the baby.
– Give me! Give me! Well, give it to me! – Masha whimpered, running up looking into the bundle with food, – I also want biscuit! I want biscit, give me! – and she started literally to cry, – You're evil, Sasha, evil! Give me biscit! – she repeated, sobbing.
"Treat your sister, Alexandra, with sweets, it`s meanly to tease kids," - she was suddenly told. Or it was only a dream?
– Who are you? – the young pilgrim was surprised, as if listening.
"I am that oak tree you are sitting by. I am your inner voice, your conscience, your intuition."
– How dare you point me, I am the cousin of tsar ! – nevertheless proud girl was indignant inwardly.
"Leave your arrogance. I repeat you. I am the very oak tree that you came to worship, Alexandra, and brought your sister. Don't hurt Masha!"
"Oh, really! Why did I attack her? She's small and doesn't think yet," the pilgrim thought, raising her head up to the tall crown of magic tree, "It's impossible to offend my little sister, even though she is betrothed, from another mammy."
– Good, Masha, I'll give you raspberry biscuit and drink some water, – she said conciliatory hugging her sister, – But promise me that you will never run away from me in the woods again and will always obey me.
– I promisi! Promisi to obey you, you are kind! – little girl said, trustfully wrapped her arms around Alexandra's neck and finally received the desired biscuit.
The young pilgrims began to eat, which gave them obvious pleasure.
"Why did you come to me, beauties? – Oak Tree as if asking when they were sated a little, – I do not feed, dress you and put on your shoes. So what is your soul full of? What brings you to me?"
And then from Alexandra 's motionless lips had barely escaped:
– We came to you, noble Oak, to ask you to predict future for me and my younger sister Masha.
"So listen carefully. I will tell you the story of two daughters of Lev Kirillovich Naryshkin, to whom Russian tsar himself is a nephew. Maybe it is just your story?
One of his daughters, seems, as if named by your name, Alexandra. Having received foreign education, having walked enough in capital's "kurtags", salons and balls, she will marry one very important state official too late. Some later he will be called as the cabinet-minister under the Empress of Russia. However, Alexandra herself will not live up to that time, she will die earlier, after next birth due to failing health. Her wedding will take place when her husband, Artemiy, will hold the post of Kazan governor. Tsar Peter Alekseevich will arrest him for embezzlement and put him to prison. Only the sudden death of Russian tsar himself will interrupt this investigation and the imminent execution of Alexandra's spouse. She will happily not live to see the time when Artemy, nevertheless, will shamefully end his life on the scaffold. The reason for this will be his obnoxious character and extreme self-conceit, because he will want to become a confidant of the Empress, taking the place of her favorite. But, it is not meant to be. Having caught Artemy on one large embezzlement, one day in winter the Empress will imprison him, and in summer will publicly execute him together with his accomplices. Alexandra's three children will be sent into exile, fortunately, for a short time, since in autumn of the same year Russian empress herself will die of renal colic, at the same time her kids will return to the capital.
And the future husband of your little sister Masha, who is eating now raspberry biscuit with good appetite, has already been born, he is also five years old now, his name is Fyodor, he is also the descendant of noble family. But it seems to me that this marriage will not be happy. Masha will not be able to conceive a single child, she will die without having lived in marriage with Fyodor for two years. Desperate to have children with noble person, he will soon marry one prolific commoner, she will bring him as many as seven heirs. Having lived quite a long life, pious Fyodor will become one of the confidants of Russian Empress, will receive ranks and awards from her."
– Noble Oak, you tell us all the time about empresses. Who they are? Will the sovereigns-men be disappeared in Russia after my cousin Pyotr Alekseevich, and only sovereigns-women will occupy the throne? – Alexandra had interested.
"It seems to me, young pilgrim, that after death of Tsar Peter Alekseevich, named during his lifetime as the Emperor of All Russia, until the end of this century, Russian throne will be occupied mainly by female persons until the Romanovs resort to a new order of succession the throne exclusively through the male line. At first, Russian throne will be occupied by the widow of Emperor Peter, Catherine, then this throne will pass to the daughter of his half–brother Ivan from his mother's Miloslavskies family, Anna Ioannovna, and then - to the daughter of your royal cousin, Elizabeth, who has not yet been born today, and she will transfer power to her nephew. In future, after one palace coup, government in Russia will be usurped by the wife of that nephew, Empress Catherine II, who formally will had no rights to this throne. Only after her death the power will return to the descendants of Romanovs and Naryshkins.
– That's how it is! So Masha and I are deprived of any hope of becoming queens? – Alexandra drawled in disappointment.
– And I want to, and I! Me too, I want to become a queensy! – little Masha echoed her, lifting her head up to the crown of magic Oak, where the sun's rays played in foliage.
"Beware of such a path. The power you seek is not genuine–it is fictional. True power is power over oneself, one's own thoughts and vile aspirations. But dreams of gaining a crown by marrying any ruler, be it a king, emperor or prince – they are the lowest dreams. That is why many royal female persons in marriage feel themselves unhappy, because with wealth and power they gain more lack of freedom. An example is the same Empress Catherine the Second, who will almost be destroyed when the birth of her legitimate heir, and then she will usurp power by agreeing to take Russian throne instead of her husband killed by conspirators. Being on Russian throne, she will win many victories, but by the end of her life, leaving corrupt serf country to her heirs, surrounded by thieves and flatterers, she will feel truly unhappy woman, despite unlimited power and untold wealth."
1812. GUILLAUME DE RASTIGNAC*
– Guillaume! Ah, Guillaume! Guillaume! – Helen repeated cherished name in frenzy of passion, still not fully realizing that it had finally taken place: the handsome major, after all, had fallen into the silks of her bed! The heiress of noble Russian family, she managed to lure this imperial adjutant into her nets, portraying with him an immense, reckless, all-consuming love, which only happens once in a lifetime. Guillaume, seems, became crasy about her too. Finally, after an unsuccessful marriage with the recently dead Arkasha Suvorov, it was appeared bright hope under patronage of this Napoleonic assistant to raise and provide five children, even if not in Russian, but in French Russia, and, if not this year, then next year by all means! Where to live?
"It's not a question! – meanwhile, she mused, – "Either here, in Paris, or in St. Petersburg, or in Moscow. I am not such "patriot" as some Russian friends and girlfriends who have refused to communicate with all French now. However, it's better to buy own house in Paris, because it becomes too expensive to live in rent apartment. It may not be enough the income from Bryansk's estates... it depends of the late Arkady had bequeath to me... perhaps, nothing at all, because the will has not been opened yet."
Meanwhile, Helen herself was falling more and more for this handsome brunette distinguished not only by playful courage and endless potency, but also by exceptionally gentle, correct treatment. She endlessly liked strong hands of the young man with nervous sensual fingers caressing her breasts, his flat, muscular torso covered with dark fluff and legs, slender and long, like dancer's. He did not smell of a stable, like other Russian horse guards officers, with whom, in the absence of her spouse, she had already had opportunity to communicate alone more than once time, and he whispered sweet words to her "ma belle, mon ange, ma d;esse!**"
"How good she is! – de Rastignac, in turn, thought, admiring the elastic forms of his new girlfriend, her smooth silky skin and extraordinary plasticity of her stomach, – ...Has given birth so many times, but she does not lost the attractiveness at all, in her twenty-seven years! Does she use anti-conception drugs? However, I should also be careful.... After all she is very rich, belongs to the most notable Russian families – maybe to form her a party, get married? How will her parents react to this?" – it had flashed through the mind of the young man from murdered Girondist's family, whom Napoleon, being with Army, sent to the rear, to Paris, with one responsible assignment.
Finally they sat down to eat, having hardly tearing away from each other. Unlike the traditional Russian breakfast seemed to Guillaume wonderful, delicious – fromages blanc, cr;pes – what she calls "cheesecakes", "pancakes" plus tarte ; la viande***, called "pie" – magically!
– Helene, I must to go to Tilsit to the Headquarter, – de Rastignac said with obvious regret, sipping from the glass of dry burgundy wine.
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* in French (auth.)
** My beauty, angel, goddess! (French)
*** Meat pie (French)
– When will you leave?
– Tonight's. And there's no time, my darling, I need to go home and get ready.
– It's pity, what a pity, my dear! I really don't want to let you go! – Helene said regretfully, not out of manners, but quite sincerely, from the heart, – When will we see each other again, Guillaume?
– I don't know... perhaps let us start the correspondence. I'll let you know by letter.
Helen hurriedly, with nervous movement (why to pretend now!) took hold of her reticule and handed him her visiting card:
– Here, take my addresses the St. Petersburg's and Moscow’s. I'm going home in a month, my kids are staying here for now. I will have to settle with legacy of the late Arkasha…
So they had parted that time, in Paris, and who would have thought that their next meeting will take place in Moscow only a year later, when Napoleon's troops will come closely to the Russian capital!
... Horse stomp echoed around in the autumn oak grove, replacing atmosphere of anxious frontline to the brief peaceful revival in wilderness which seemed long-awaited and saving, like a sip of water in sultry afternoon. Two horsemen had met here, one was on the brown stallion in uniform of French guards officer, the other - on the frisky black mare – was dressed as officer of Russian horse guard.
– You're being rash, my dear, dressing up in all army clothes. They may see us, – the one, who hobbled his stallion near one two–hundred-year-old oak tree trunk, whispered excitedly.
– Ah, Guillaume! No one will see us here! Sorry, my house is full of people, I couldn't accept you there. Evacuation. My uncle, nieces – they're all going to leave," – the vis–a-vis answered him.
– Where to? What for? – the Frenchman was perplexed, embracing Helen, burying his head to her luxurious dark strands escaped from under the dropped shako.
– They are afraid of the French and French orders in Russia, my dear. I almost panicked myself, but then… and then I changed my mind. I said that I would protect my home until my last breath…
– Oh, my God! What idiocy! The whole of Europe is thriving under the government of Bonaparte, but only Russia is gripped by fear!.. What idiocy, what stupidity, ma cheri*..." - repeated de Rastignac, meanwhile striving to possess his beloved.
– Leave me, stop it, Guillaume, it's not time for this now…
– ...and, by the way, I do not care about Europe, about whole world! – the Napoleonic adjutant persisted, – I love you, not the whole world. You are mine, Helen, do you hear? Mine!..
- Tell you what, my dear, - Helen said decisively, having finally freed herself from embraces of her lover, "I still have to go to Moscow. Maybe, until everything will settle down, it would be better if we started seeing each other there, eh? We have large, beautiful house at the Ostozhenka Street.
– And where are your babies? They are also being evacuated? Where are you all running to? – Guillaume wondered.
– My children is staying in Paris, and thank God I didn't have time recall them to Moscow! Uncle and nieces gathered to Maloyaroslavets, to the Kaluga estate. I hope, God willing, they will be safer there. What do you think about it, dear Guillaume?
– I think that all Russians are crazy, no other way. They don't want to live in the civilized society. They like deep ignorance. Some of them, like you, are the exception. I'll tell you in confidence that His Majesty's plans do not include to change Romanov's dynasty, he wants to grant your sovereign the former powers, but only with one condition – as the part of the great French Empire, with its legislative and executive power, judicial practice…
– Ah, Guillaume, how boring! – Helen interrupted him with melancholy in her voice, – I don't want any politics, I want everything to be the same, and there is no need to evacuate anywhere, so that we can to spend summer in France, and winter at home in Russia! So, that everything will be as before. Is it really so difficult to arrange?!
– Yes it is. That's what we are talking about, Helen! If not today, then tomorrow they will brought symbolic keys to the ancient capital of Russia for His Majesty. And even there is a special ceremony for that. The Prefect will be appointed to Moscow and will govern the city on a par with yours governor-general, and everything will remain the same way as you want, my dear, as you are used to! – Guillaume excitedly convinced his girlfriend, trying to get away from the obviously uncomfortable theme of this war to pressing, understandable problems.
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* my dear (French)
Helen picked up her shako with leaves stuck on it, and began to clean it vigorously with her purest lace handkerchief taken out of the pocket.
– Tell you what, dear Guillaume, – she said, putting on her headdress and tucking hair into it, – I don't intend to stay here. I'm going to the city tomorrow. I'll be waiting for you there, in the house on Ostozhenka street. Remember: Ostozhenka, house number forty, Naryshkins mansion…
They met again a few days later, because de Rastignac was secretly very busy with the upcoming quartering of the Imperial Army. As an employee of French diplomatic mission, it seems, he have traveled all over the city, marking suitable places on his plan. The two-storey Naryshkin mansion in Italian Baroque style was really large, luxurious and was capable to admire even the most refined imagination. It would be a crime to settle in it not just soldiers, but even officers of the French Guard – they will mess this elegant interior decoration, and won’t blink an eye! Therefore, he decided not to put this estate to any plan, not to report the emperor, but to use the palace himself, at least until establishing new orders in the city. The night spent here with Helen was unusually exciting, loving and passionate, which was explained not only by long separation, but also by long abstinence.
They met again a few days later, because de Rastignac was secretly very busy with the upcoming quartering of the Imperial Army. As an employee of French diplomatic mission, it seems, he have traveled all over the city, marking suitable places on his plan. The two-storey Naryshkin mansion in Italian Baroque style was really large, luxurious and was capable to admire even the most refined imagination. It would be a crime to settle in it not just soldiers, but even officers of the French Guard – they will mess this elegant interior decoration, and won’t blink an eye! Therefore, he decided not to put this estate to any plan, not to report the emperor, but to use the palace himself, at least until establishing new orders in the city. The night spent here with Helen was unusually exciting, loving and passionate, which was explained not only by long separation, but also by long abstinence.
Helen jumped out of bed and began to walk around in excitement, dragging hems of her luxurious Chinese dressing gown over scrubbed in the chambers floors.
– Horrible! It's horrible! But I thought that it's the chimneys stink... – the confused woman repeated, clutching her cheeks, then her forehead, – What should to do? What to make now? Ah! They can set everything on fire at any moment!
– First of all, my darling, you need to pull yourself together, calm down, sit down and think, – Guillaume suggested, pointing to the sofa, – It seems that you yourself were ready to defend your home until the last breath, wasn't it? How many personnel do you have at your disposal?
Ellen sent for Pierre, the butler, also a former Frenchman, who reported that five wagons with especially valuable property had been loaded yesterday morning and sent to Sukhanovo near Bryansk. There is only he himself, groom Samson, coachman Ivan, key keeper Roman (aka the watchman) had remained from the staff in the house, and some maids Glafira, Fekla and Svetlana.
- Not a lot, Helene,- Guillaume said after a moment's thought, - It would be more convenient to retreat with such consist, my dear. I'm advising you as a military man. And, since fire is raging in the north of Moscow, order them immediately to harness up and go somewhere to the south, following your uncle towards Kaluga town. l will stay here and keep an eye on the house. Perhaps leave me only your key keeper, I hope he is well acquainted with the location of rooms and basements? And, we will still be in touch, if the mail is still working, otherwise I will send you a courier.
After grieving for a short time, Helen considered that the proposed option was quite reasonable. At least there was some hope of saving family property. Two hours later the road carriage, landau with passengers and freight wagon with necessary goods, regardless of danger, left Naryshkin's yard to the big Kaluga road. She expected to be in Balyatino near Maly Yaroslavets by evening. At first, the road was deserted, occasionally they met French horse ridings, which, however, did not commit any actions and did not make any harm, but then compatriots had appeared. At the Podolsk town, they met rear guard of Russian army under the command of General Miloradovich. Mikhail Andreevich drove up himself and looked into the carriage.
– By what destinies, Princess! I am glad to welcome Your Excellency! – he exclaimed cheerfully, lifting his ceremonial two-cornered hat with dapper fluffy sultan.
– Ah, Michal Andreevich! Morning! – Helen answered, cheered up by the opportunity to communicate with the Commander himself, with whom she have danced once at the ball, when he was Kiev's Governor-General, - Yes, I would be glad to stay and defend my house to the end, if I had at least some hope of success! But, our forces are not equal. Besides, they're setting fire there! They are setting fire, Mikhail Andreevich, right in front of my eyes! What can I, a poor weak woman, do against this? Nothing! Absolutely nothing, sir!
– Yes, madam! As right I understand you! – Miloradovich smiled, nevertheless, – I've just been informed about this fires in Moscow German settlement. Terrible, terrible! Unfortunately, the order is to retreat. I have agreed about non-aggression with the French. Well, it remains to look forward with optimism, madam. They will let us retreat to Maloyaroslavets without fighting. So ride calmly. You will not be touched. God save you!
– Ah, don't leave me, Michael Andreevich! – Helen pleaded fervently, grabbing the edge of the window of carriage, – God knows I can't do anything without you!.. By the way, it`s on the way for you, General. Come into my position, please! In fact, you're on my way… I am afraid to be alone on the road.
Commander took his horse to the side, and after prancing a little on the roadside, where some company of hussars could be seen in distance, he approached the carriage again:
– How can I refuse the widowed daughter-in-law of Alexander Vasilyevich Suvorov himself? In no way! – He exclaimed with an unchanging smile, – All right, Elena Alexandrovna, I'll give you four horsemen to escort you. As far are you riding?
– To the Balyatino, near Maly-Yaroslavets town. I think my uncle and his family are already there… Thank you, Michal Andreevich, I'll never forget!..
Helen has more reliable hope now for successful outcome of this dangerous journey. "God knows, God knows, everything will work out! – she thought hopefully, looking to the window as cavalry of rear guard takes her carriage under protection, – Guillaume will certainly come up with something! Perhaps he will place someone's headquarters in the Ostozhenka palace, so that no one should burning expensive property? Yes, let the Napoleonic prefecture settle there – it's not a pity at all!.. I hope they will buy out my father's mansion later, along with the rest of property and the land plot?"
They arrived safely. Uncle Dmitry Lvovich, or simply – Dim'a, was inexpressibly glad and friendly. The nieces, little by little, squealed with delight. Everyone was allowed to dinner, including household servants, governesses and their children. In general, it was fun.
At first, Helene did not dare to tell her relative about hopes for Guillaume's help. But, since Dim'a himself was a cuckold known to whole elite, because his wife Mary was in an unofficial marriage to Sovereign-emperor himself – and it seems that they had already made their own children – Helen, nevertheless, ventured to tell privately the uncle about her plans of marriage with this influential Frenchman.
– Your father should support you in this marriage, ma belle*, – Dim'a said thoughtfully, sipping smoking pipe, – May be he know better from the abroad. It seems he is loyal to the French, to the Swiss and to all other Europeans. Certainly, there is a hope for successful outcome, and you are right, Helen, it is better than nothing... however... however, I doubt that everything will go on as smoothly as in your thoughts. Because man proposes, God disposes as you know…
It was no news from Moscow for several days. Every day Helen visited the local church, located on the edge of the village. Due to many refugees from Moscow, there were a lot of people. They said different things, as if Bonaparte was the manifestation of antichrist, which the heavenly comet had warned earlier, other said that everything in the ancient capital had already been looted, burned to the ground, and he himself went to rampaging through Tver and Novgorod to the St. Petersburg, that soon all the towns of Russia will face the same sad fate. Others, on the contrary, were determined to resist French aggression, that Napoleon is not genius commander, but an ordinary upstart, usurper and scoundrel.
General Ermolov's Cossack patrol appeared in Baryatino in the first days of October. The cavalry squadron of Cossacks, heated with alcohol, quickly filled Central Square of the village, covered with road dust and fallen leaves. Ataman jumped off his horse, pulled off the cap from his head, leaned long spear against the fence, crossed himself at the church gate, and greeted surrounded him fellow citizens with the words:
– God bless you, good people! Rise up against French and their henchmen, Poles and others! Arm yourself as you can and beat on enemy how you can, more painful is better! Hurry up, citizens! Murat's cavalry will follow us here immediately!
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* my beauty (Fr.)
– Tell us, dear Cossack, what about Moscow? Much burned? – they shouted from the crowd, and questions poured in from all around: – Is it true that Bonaparte is going to St. Petersburg? Will we soon give a decisive battle against the adversary? What takes Frenchman better, pitchforks or axes?
– Kind people! Listen to me carefully, – ataman shouted at the top of his voice, mounting his horse again, – That half of Moscow has burned down – for sure! I saw it myself. Frenchmen are robbing and rampaging there, all lodgers are completely demoralized. Regular troops of Bonaparte are retreating not along Tver, but along the Ryazan road. And, most importantly! The main thing! Our mission is to lure the enemy to the village of Krasnaya Pakhra, Voronovo or Tarutino, and give them heat in those places!
Ataman whistled shrilly to his Cossacks, grabbed his spear, and cavalry patrol, raising clouds of dust, disappeared from the square of Balyatino as suddenly as it appeared.
Becoming an unintentional witness to this scene, excited Helen hurried home. As the Cossack ataman had warned, Murat's cavalry was already rampaging in the courtyard, in the garden and flowerbeds, trampling brazenly all paths and plantings.
– Que faites-vous, les barbares! C'est une propri;t; priv;e! Arr;tez tout de suite cette ignominie*! – princess Suvorova exclaimed in her pure Parisian accent, not expecting, however, to reason the horsemen. She was saved from being hit with whip only by happy chance, as her groom walking in front, got this blow on the thick quilted jacket. Samson swore and threw his bag at the Frenchman. Stuffed with something heavy, it hit the offender on the boot.
Stunned by surprise, the rider backed away and muttered in confusion:
– Oh mon Dieu! Excusez-moi, Madame! Nous sommes Polonais du mar;chal Poniatowski**.
– You have nothing to do here, bandits! - Helen continued to shout in Parisian, being in extreme expression, – If you are looking for Cossack patrol, then follow it along that road, through Podolsk to Krasnaya Pakhra! Get out of here so I don't see you anymore!
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* What are you doing, barbarians! It is private property! Stop this robbery immediately! (French)
** Oh, my God! Excuse me, madam, we are Marshal Poniatowski's Poles. (French)
...Meanwhile, Guillaume was trying to defend property of his future bride and her relatives by cunning. As he had expected, Emperor, having settled in Kremlin, gave all quartering in the city to the newly appointed Governor-General of Moscow, Marshal Edouard Mortier. There was no time to think. Presenting his plan to monsieur Mortier, Guillaume immediately invited him and his surroundings to occupy Naryshkin's Palace, motivaiting that this estate, although located on the outskirts, but closely to the Kremlin, on the south side away from fires, it's more comfortable and safely.
– Well, you know best, Major. Let's view, – Mortier, good–natured fat man, agreed. He obviously did not want to enter into debate about arrangement in the being won city. Marshal Mortier, although he considered Guillaume de Rastignac a minion of fate and careerist, but he apparently did not want to object Emperor at such tense and crucial moment for France.
– Ten minutes to the Kremlin by perfectly calm, walking trot, Your Excellency, – de Rastignac urged him, showing the palace, – At the same time, you will not be worry about trifles and distracted from your daily affairs by some guarantors like me…
– Ha-ha! Do not dissemble, monsieur de Rastignac, – don't I know the Emperor's attitude towards you, the son of man who, during liquidation of the Directory, saved his Majesty from certain death, that is, to your venerable father!
– Ah, monsieur Marshal, it was happened so long ago that probably he already forgot! - Guillaume encouraged the Governor–General, showing Mortier the home theaters’ hall, - Here is a very good place for holding large conferences, by the way, you can figure out some concert or opera… There is exit to foyer from the central box, to the whole number of living rooms. There is a front office, at the end of enfilade. And below them, on the ground floor, there are many living quarters where you can comfortably accommodate with your wife, monsieur Marshal, when she will arrive in Moscow.
He invited Governor-General to the balcony to show him large square with huge round flower bed in the middle, and continued:
– By the way, there is enough firewood for stoves and fireplaces; I saw myself... the main thing is that they will fire up them properly. Here are stables, and the guest wing. Over there, on the side, is carriage house for five carts. Behind the mansion there are regular garden, greenhouse and winter vegetable garden. In a word, everything is for your productive work and good rest, Your Excellency.
– Very well, monsieur de Rastignac. Let us settle down here. – Mortier said at last, glancing at his impatient assistants waiting for him in the courtyard, - I will give the necessary orders this very hour. Excuse me major I have urgent occasions in the Headquarters. I hope to see you soon!
"Everything will be fine, everything! – Guillaume assured himself, showing Mortier's adjutants where, what and how to bring and arrange, – Helene and me, we’ll still feast on the proceeds from the sale of this precious estate! We shall have fun!"
Next day, at eleven o’clock in the morning, a battalion of French infantry appeared on Ostozhenka street among suffocating veil of fires covered the whole city. It was difficult at first to determine the composition, but Rastignac almost immediately recognized in these disorganized crowds Marshal Ney's units from the infantry Hussar regiments. All the soldiers and, apparently, many officers were terribly drunk and swore by dirty words among themselves. Hooligans was rushing into neighboring apartment buildings and estates, made scuffles at every entrance and on the opposite side of the street had smashed an empty bread shop. Grasping his sword, Rastignac hurried down to the gates.
Their company commander, drunken as hell, approached him and demanded to open the estate.
– Surely you’ve come to have a rest, sergeant? Yeah? Go and sleep somewhere else, – de Rastignac patted him on the shoulder, – This house is already occupied by marshal Mortier, the governor-general of the city.
Several hussars jumped up to the company commander:
– Hey you, prick! Open gates! We're to the quar-te-ring here, - the soldiers, heated with alcohol, demanded, threatening with sabers.
– I am Rastignac, the Emperor's adjutant! – In the name of His Majesty, I order you to retreat! - Guillaume raged, clutching the handle of his "Forner" *, - Five steps back! Get out of here before I court-martial you!
– I am Rastignac, the Emperor's adjutant! – In the name of His Majesty, I order you to retreat! - Guillaume raged, clutching the handle of his "Forner" *, - Five steps back! Get out of here before I court-martial you!
The crowd of drunken Hussars calmed down, but someone shouted:
– That’s lie! Emperor promised us to enjoy a fruits of victory! So we use it! Open gates!
Company officer drew his saber from its scabbard and swung at Guillaume, but de Rastignac instantly repelled prepared blow, knocking unfortunate commander to the ground, and put blade to his chest:
– Sleep it off, you crud, or I'll really kill you!
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* Parisian production of edged weapons (1803-1805) (auth.)
Meanwhile, another crowd of hussars attacked the gates, they rushed to the gate for pedestrians near the guardhouse and police box. Much efforts of the key keeper Roman to resist such strong pressure, of course, were not enough. Under the frenzied onslaught, flimsy hinges from brick pillars were broke off, and metal openwork lattice became on the ground. Drunken soldiers with shrill whistle, loud whooping, laughter and shouts of "Hooray! Hooray! Victory!!" poured into the manor.
Dressed in a hurry, Guillaume rushed to the stable, hastily saddled his Pound and like the wind galloped to Kremlin to ask for help.
Emperor was in a bad mood, his sweat greasy face expressed not only poorly concealed irritation, but also confusion, obvious disappointment with everything that was happening around him. He constantly kept wiping his wet forehead by embroidered lace handkerchief, and eyes which were watering from acrid smoke, which penetrated into the chambers of the Alexander Palace.
– Take company of guards, Rastignac, while there is still an opportunity to escape from Kremlin, - Napoleon said in barely audible voice, - I'm going to wait out fires outside the city, in Petrovsky Castle. Tell me eventually where Mortier will be located and where to send couriers.
It was managed to get from the guards commander not a company, but only platoon, about fifteen cuirassiers led by Lieutenant Dijo, of those who were preparing to escort Emperor to the village of Petrovskoe.
When they returned to Ostozhenka st., Naryshkin's Palace was engulfed in flames. The roof of main building was on fire, force fire was bursting out of its windows, cast statues on the roof, being made of something combustible, were burning like torches. The tenants, who were in what, with screams of horror and despair poured out on the facade square – and there was no trace of their former bravery.
– Follow me, Dijo! Follow me to the governor's house! De Rastignac shouted, deciding to change immediately the disposition for Mortier. He was in a hurry to change marshal’s location on the Ostozhenka st. with a hope that the official house on Tverskaya st. did not yet burned down and the Governor-General's wagons did not yet leave the Headquarters.
Fortunately, Guillaume was not mistaken in his assumptions. The intact, large mansion of Moscow governor still flaunted on Tverskaya Street, and flames still spared the entire quarter surrounding this building.
– Ride, Dijo, to the Headquarters, report to Marshal Mortier that I have to change my disposition. Let him urgently move into the Governor Rostopchin’s residence on Tverskaya Street, and also take a group of firefighters with him!
... Late in the evening, having somehow settled down in a small room given to him in Petrovsky Palace, Guillaume decided to write two lines for Helen in English so that few of his compatriots can understand the content.
“My love, dear Helen! Unfortunately, I was unable to save your family's property. The palace burned down, even though I showed it to French Governor-General, Marshal Mortier, and he agreed to make the estate on Ostozhenka Street his residence. I hope that later, when everything settles down, we will be able to bring a lawsuit to French Government for monetary compensation for the damage. Everything else - is at the meeting, my dear, incomparable Helen. I love and kiss you! Your Guillaume”.
Sending this letter by courier together with mail for Marshal Murat, de Rastignac will not even think that it will be read by the addressee only in a decade. One day, while sorting out her old oak secretaire, Helen suddenly will find this small envelope, not opened in evacuation turmoil. And past, almost forgotten feelings will embrace her with renewed force. "In fact, he really loved me very much! – she will think with tenderness in great excitement, looking at the familiar sweeping handwriting, – Besides, in no case he can be denied nobility and honesty!"
By that time, the burned-out estate on Ostozhenka St. will already be sold along with land. The war will destroy all human contacts, sincere aspirations and reasonable arguments. The "Great generals" of Napoleonic battles will sink into oblivion. Their immoral, ambitious instigator will sleep in Bose in exile in St. Helena Island.
And only feeling of love, mutual affection of two peaceful hearts will remain imperishable, genuine and the same.
Having made unsuccessful attempt to find her lover in Paris, Helene will never know his tragic fate, how icy waters will engulf our courageous hero and dreamer, deserted by his crowned boss as unnecessary, as well as all French army soldiers abandoned to their mercy of fate. And that, together with all Bonaparte's soldiers , big excellent monument will be erected also to Major of the French Guard Guillaume de Rastignac in the middle of blooming meadow on the Berezina River steep green bank.
1913. “INSPIRATIONS”
Here in Kuntsevo, having rented a beautiful summer cottage cheaply for spring-summer season not far from the deserted railway station, where a rare passenger train had a stop, Malevich, finally, could admire beautiful local views and walk around every day in his saving solitude. That was much cheaper and more productive than some rented apartment in Moscow with its stupid vanity, being in full view of everyone, as if in circus arena. From time to time he went to St. Petersburg and took part in futuristic actions and exhibitions, but returned again soon to this nice, quiet country abode. Staying here for weeks, he was leaving his children, George and Galina, in care of his beloved wife Sofia, and went "wandering" with or without easel, taking only a pocket notebook and pencil.
And today, on this fine May morning, having barely had breakfast, he decided to walk, to think and to dream. Cheerful melody of Beethoven's violin concerto, heard last night in the beautiful new hall of Moscow Conservatory, still sounded in his ears. The other day, after leaving concert hall, he went from Bolshaya Nikitskaya St. to Tverskaya St. by foot, remembering his former life there with his ex-wife and his mother, who had been renting people’s dining room in those lanes for a long time. Passing by familiar fence, he sighed with relief that all terrible in family life were finally over. Kazimira, who ran away with some pimple to the village of about five years, abandoned children to the mercy of fate, finally, after long delay, gave Malevich life-saving for his family divorce.
Present day, being in fine mood, whistling Beethoven melody to himself, he went down slopping hill to river named Filka and headed along green shore right through the meadow among beautiful bright yellow dandelions scattered everywhere in dense grass, which were so many that it became rippling in his eyes.
Local cow was grazing above edge of steep slope. Fawn color cow with white belly plucked juicy grass with gusto, being in absolute ignorance of its innate color, distinguished by fatal similarity with color of the violin in hands of yesterday's violinist. "What an amazing interweaving of two absolutely unrelated objective realities – cow giving people milk and meat and violin giving them mood and sensuality! - Malevich thought, admiring his discovery, – Yes! By all means, surely it is necessary to reflect this idea in picture!"
Being at home that day before dinner, he dismantled old room whatnot in hope that owner of cottage will forgive. Well, just to have something to create on, in view of do not buying expensive canvases on stretchers in Moscow art stores. It was possible to make identical tablets from the shelves of former whatnot for creative reflection and visualization of his country moods. On one of them, he decided to capture fawn color cow and violin, on the second – Kuntsevo deserted station, and dedicate the third tablet ... probably, to furniture he broke.
By lunchtime, as usual, there were guests. Today, his old friend Lesha Vertinsky, nicknamed Sachok, invited the whole company of poetic youth to Sunday table, even there were not enough plates, it had to borrow from the neighbors. While samovar was warming, before tea, they decided to play "kaleidoscope", throwing lots around circle to read own poems. There was not even a free place on cramped veranda, so they read right from the spot.
Malevich was setting topic theme himself, as the most "ungifted" among everybody. Among everybody there was one big-eared young man with grayish eyes wearing yellow plaid jacket, who he asked to read something about inhabitants of forest thicket. And the lad had read, romantically peering at fragments of the sky in dense foliage behind colored glass windows:
Christmas trees are burning
In the woods by gold leaf;
And toy wolves are looking
With scary eyes from bushes.
Oh, my prophetic sadness,
Oh, my quiet freedom
And always laughing crystal
Of the inanimate sky!*
– What's your name? You forgot to introduce yourself ... - reminded Malevich.
– I am Joseph. You can just Osip ... my last name is Mandelstam, – the young man answered without hesitation, not trying at all to hide his Jewish origin behind some pseudonym, in spite of widespread debauchery of black-hundreds.
– And, read us something else…
– About forest?
- At your choice, Osip. At least something about nature…
Among forests, more bleak and abandoned,
Let our bread remain uncut in fields!
We are waiting for guests unbidden and uninvited,
We are waiting guests!
Let overripe ears rots!
They will come to yellow fields,
And you, honest and brave, will certainly loose
Your heads!
They will trample those golden fields,
They will open the shady cemetery,
And then it will untie their unclean mouths,
The bloody hops!
They will break into the blackened huts,
They will light big fire –being drunk and brutal
Neither gray hairs of elders will not stop them,
Nor baby cry!
Among the forests, bleak and abandoned,
We are leaving our bread uncut in the fields,
We are waiting for guests,unbidden and uninvited,
Our children!*
His strangled voice died away in the crystal chamber of closed veranda.
– Something sadly... – Sachok said, – it should be more optimistic to you, young man, at your age…
This thought was energetically picked up by lanky Vova named Mayakovsky, whom Malevich met more than once in St. Petersburg at futuristic hangouts, where he took lively part as a poet and artist. He was unpleasant familiar today.
– That's right, Kazimirych! Vova shouted, addressing Malevich, – Looks for the fat ones in buildings shell-houses and beat a fun on belly tambourine! Grab the feet of deaf and stupid and blow into their ears like into the flute nostrils. Break bottoms of anger’s barrels, because I’m eating burning cobblestone of my thoughts. I will be crowned with my madness today in your screaming toast! – Vova frowned and breathed heavily, having finished his expression.
– Calm down, Vladimir. Why did you get in the game? This lot is not yours. And then, there is no reason to have fun with cobblestone in your head, because you are risking losing your mind, – said Sachok, – By the way, the revolution you are so glorify doesn't need crazy people either. And in general, all revolutions are some relic of the past.
– I do not know, comrades.. but, there is no other way to convince the government. Neither the Constituent Assembly, nor general elections, nor our State Duma are nothing compared to the general workers' strike. That's a baton so a baton! – Mayakovsky objected with conviction, slapping his palm with tablespoon, – There is no another way to force the state to address the needs of our people, especially to reason with the absolute all–encompassing monarchy. The world history does not know other methods at all. Read Karl Marx's Capital, comrades, and Communist Manifesto!
Vova's call did not cause response, did not change prevailing minor mood of the guests. Someone brought from the yard long-awaited samovar fragrant with red-hot coals and large vase with bagels. Then everyone perked up, pouring tea.
– So, friends and comrades, mark my word! – disloyal Mayakovsky said, reaching out to pour boiling water, – I invite everyone to St. Petersburg to my performance. The mystery "Mayakovsky" in two or three acts – that's how it will go on. My poster is on the door, I’ve already attached…
– So, friends and comrades, mark my word! – disloyal Mayakovsky said, reaching out to pour boiling water, – I invite everyone to St. Petersburg to my performance. The mystery "Mayakovsky" in two or three acts – that's how it will go on. My poster is on the door, I’ve already attached…
The lot fell to petite, full faced girl with naive look of light eyes, similar to female student who was sitting opposite the table on Malevich's right hand.
– It seems to me that something bad will happen soon, – this girl said thoughtfully.
– Let me introduce you, my friends: Marina by the name of Tsvetaeva, favorite daughter of the country–famous courtier who opened new Museum of Fine Arts in Moscow, – Lyosha Sachok caught himself, being busy with samovar, – While she has not yet changed her passport, due to marriage, I ask you to call her Mademoiselle Tsvetaeva.
– Why do you think so, Alexey? I wasn't going to change my last name ... – Marina offended, – My last name comes from russian word “tsvety” - flowers, it suits me quite well.
– By the way, can you read us something about flowers, Marina? You probably have some in stock, – Malevich asked.
You're coming to me, stranger,
Aspiring down eyes.
I used to lower them too!
Stay here, stranger, stop at me!
Read – gathering bouquet
Of poppies and night blindness flowers, –
That my name was Marina
And how old I've been.
Don't think that here is a grave,
That I'll appear menacing you?
I loved to laugh too much myself
When it’s forbidden!
And blood used to rush to the skin,
And did my frizzes curl?
I lived before too, stranger!
Stay here, stranger, stop at me!
Pluck yourself a wild stalk
And berry after it, –
There is no bigger and sweeter
Cemetery strawberries
But just don't stand sullenly,
Lowering your head on the chest.
Think about me easily,
And easily forget*.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
By evening, all guests went out into the garden. Weather was wonderful, perfectly calm, and only darting swifts, sweeping in the sky over cottage, blooming gardens and centennial oak grove, made piercing sound and broke the deep silence of this miraculous temple of nature, thereby emphasizing its true greatness.
... Marina, with bouquet of fragrant lilacs under her arm, headed to the gate, picking up both her purse and sweater, with the obvious intention to leave unnoticed, as if "in English". Noticing this, Malevich called out to her:
– Wait, wait, Marinochka! Why do you compose such gloomy poems?.. Is the environment conducive? Don't you like it here? Wait a minute! You will still be waiting for train for at least an hour and half. So you will go by additional, at eight o'clock according to the schedule. After all, you're not in a hurry for business today, are you? Today is the day off! Come on with me, I'll show you one wonderful place, there's the giant centennial oak tree growing there, three hundred years old!
____________________
* literal translation (auth.)
– Really? That's interesting! And how far is it? – her eyes became sparkled, she threw up her head, correcting bangs fell on her forehead, from which the bouquet clamped by her elbow fell on the ground.
– Wait… put your lilacs in this garden vase. Come on with me, I'll show you. It's nearby here, it won’t be even a half verst*,– Malevich opened gate, and they headed to the oak tree.
For some time they walked in silence through the village past neighboring summer cottages and garden thickets. Somewhere, despite Sunday, hammers were knocking and saws were ringing.
– It seems that I'm not the only one devotee of this quiet place, – Malevich joked, – They are building up it slowly.. . So soon the whole oak grove will be taken over.
– Wouldn't you like to, Kazimir? New estates mean new people, new acquaintances. New perspectives are opening up, – Marina said with shade of sadness.
– Yes, yes. Undoubtedly, undoubtedly. But, not here, of course. It is the temple of nature here, it's forbidden to build up the temple. You create wonderful poems, Marina. How long have you been composing? – Malevich asked, wanting to change the theme of the conversation.
– Always. I wrote them anytime; – Marina stood on the wide stump overgrown in the grass and began to recite, as children do when visiting:
– My rhymes, so early written that an inkling I hardly had I bore a poet's mark, My rhymes, that burst as… from a fountain sprinklings… As from a rocket sparks**!
– Let me hold your purse and sweater, – Malevich offered gallantly.
Marina left her things, ran to another stump, continuing to declaim:
– That broke, like little nymphos in devil's dresses into a dormant, incense-breathing shrine! My rhymes about death and adolescence – unread, unheeded rhymes! That rest on dusty shelves of cheap book sellers, as yet unsold, uncut, and undisturbed… My poems will, like precious wines in cellars, have their rightful turn!
– Ha, ha, ha! That's really why you definitely won't die, Marinochka, so from the modesty!
____________________
* old Russian measure of length, 1066,8 meters. (auth.)
** translation this and following by Alexander Givental (auth.)
The same three-hundred-year-old relict, about which locals told Malevich a lot, was towering on the hill surrounded by his century-old retinue.
– This one? Ah, what a beautiful! The best! ... – Marina whispered admiringly, coming up, gently touching warm bark of the tree. And, it seemed to her:
"Why did you come to me, young talents? What do you want to know from me?" – "We want to know how many poets and artists have come to you for inspiration and advice during all your three hundred years old life?" - "Artists? Yes, they have always been here, creating with oil on canvases, on watercolors by paints, they were always kind, admired me in spring, summer, autumn, even in winter in the very frost, when paints were frizzing, and it had to warm them with breath. But there were not many poets, I do not remember … though, wait! One little boy, poet, was here in the summer of 1828. His name was Michael with the strange surname Lermontov, descendant of an ancient English family.
I remember he wrote whole diary, but then deleted it. He also wrote notes to one local young lady, here for example:
"Nadejda*, you are my Hope! You are only eleven years old; it's too early for you to confess your love, my incomparable, adored girl! But, to play hide-and-seek with you, to read you poetry, to look at your works and embroideries, I endlessly agree, because I like very much your dreamy face, and your easy dance lessons, from which I have gained as much that I will certainly use it at great ball in the Noble Assembly as soon as the opportunity arises. And it will be definitely, because I have classes at University in the fall, and I will not leave Moscow anywhere! I know that you are going the other day with Dmitry Lvovich and your mother to Kuntsevo Oak. I will leave in the large hollow near it a few poems that I wrote especially for you. If you'll be there, please take them! To do this, you just need to look around and see the large tree with deep hollow nearby – I will leave my opuses there in the big envelope for you. Read and remember me, your guest here. I hope to see you again in Moscow, because you are my endless incomparable Hope! Always yours, Michael Lermant, descendant of the ancient English family."
I don't know, Marina, whether Michaell met his Hope that time, but it seems that his letter is still there in that deep hollow. Look. Perhaps it is still preserved."
– And what did this giant tell you? – Malevich asked ironically.
– He told me that not far from here, in a deep hollow of one of these trees, it should be some Lermontov's poems written by his own hand.
– You are great romancer, Marina. This can't be happening!
__________________________
* there are two meanings of this word: 1) girl name; 2)”nadejda” in Rus. is a “hope” in Eng. (auth.)
– Why don't you believe me, Casimir? – the poet-girl boiled up, – But if it's true? Let us look around and try to find that place!
And, really: very closely, behind dense thickets of hazel, there was another oak tree trunk with an impressive black hole located above human height. It was not very difficult to get to it, having some skill, along the protrusions, bumps and twigs on the thick oblique branch. As well, as to put there something, using long stick.
– I swear to you – there is nothing there, Marina! Malevich shouted theatrically, curiosity really began to overcome him.
Having made up his mind, he climbed the tree, looked into circular black space in the trunk of this very old oak, stretched out his hand there and really felt something similar to exercise book, or tightly folded envelope. "What's there? Can there be any beginning in black velvet of ignorance? – he thought suddenly, – Where it, something black, should be? Exactly inside circle, or inside ellipse? Maybe it will multiply, increase to infinite in the square?? And what if the beginning of everything is limited only by alphabetical geometry?" – he thought in the meantime, trying to grab edge of his find, and immediately made a wish: "If it will be possible to get poems out of there now, then it will be possible to graspe the sacred beginning of everything in the world by the simple geometric figure!"
At last, Malevich succeeded to pull out secret loot, but it fell out of his hands to the ground. - "Here it is! Hurrah!! I was right after all!"- he exclaimed to himself, jumping down from the tree.
Half-decayed pages of old exercise book scattered on the grass. Marina rushed to pick them up:
– Look, look! There is something written here! "My thyrsus* with golden lira above the apple tree...
" My thyrsus* with golden lira above the apple tree.
Hang them up and sign: the inspirations were living here!
One singer has known living raptures of love …
...And I will come here and won't recognize you, oh sonorous strings! **.. "
__________________________________________________
* Thyrsus is a life–affirming mythical wand (auth.)
** M.Y. Lermontov. Op. in 2 volumes.1988.Pub."Imaginative literature", p.22
2003. EASTERN MOTIVE
Shortly after noon, they decided to unwind a little and walk along the oak grove with children. Ichiro, professor of political science at one of Japanese universities, with his inherent curiosity was interested absolutely in everything, not only the local municipal government – main topic of his current scientific work, but general in everything that caught his eye in Moscow. Walking in the thick grass among dense thickets of hazel, he enthusiastically asked his colleague Mikhail, senior researcher of the International Humanitarian Institute, about everything around, as if he himself was inquisitive student, but not an experienced professor. Fourteen-year-old Nastya, Mikhail's daughter, took under her wing Ichiro's children, preschoolers Akira and Yori. She did not know Japanese, the boys did not speak Russian, and this fact did not interfere the young ones to communicate and have fun.
– There is a reserved, wildish place here, Ichiro-san, despite the fact that it is located near a residential quarter, – Mikhail said, plucking on the move yellow spikelets of high August grass, – elks graze, owls fly, not to mention squirrels on trees. Once, twenty years ago, I went to work by car, early-early in the morning – in that place, on the corner of our house, one young elk was eating yard bushes there. It wasn't even scared! Moreover one day, about five years ago, the large eagle-owl flew into our balcony.
– What is it: "eagle-owl"?
– It is a bird from the family of owls, according to Darwin.
– A-a-a! I know. It's a symbol of wisdom, as well as protection and fortune. You're lucky, Misha-san, since owl flew to you. We have the same thing too. Fukura. There is even cafe Fuku in Tokyo, where owls live. You can drink tea or coffee, and pet an owl.
Conversations with Ichiro gave Mikhail obvious pleasure. Speaking up in foreign language sometimes funny and ridiculous, this Japanese seemed to rediscover everything around to the Russian, whose eyes and ears just sometimes got used and mind had already come to terms. Having met at the height of Soviet "perestroika", at that time Mikhail was still working in the local committee of the Communist Party, they have not stopped scientific and personal contacts to this day.
So, led away by their conversation, they approached Kuntsevo oak.
– Wow! – Ichiro-san exclaimed, throwing his head up, admiring the high, thick crown, – Akira, Yuori! Come here, let us watch! – I wonder how old it is? – he asked Mikhail.
– I think it is three or four hundred years old. We have measured this forked giant trunk once. There's more than five meters in circle length down here, and fifty meters in height, - the former party functionary replied, – When I worked in local district committee of the Communist Party, I asked special experts about this tree. They said that this oak may be much more than three hundred years old, it is possible that it is the same age as grandfather of Peter the Great.
Children came up. Yuori asked to be held on his father's arms.
– He wants to sit on the tree. Can he? – Ichiro asked stepping on the high stand specially made here from wooden box. Lifting his son in arms, he put him on the shoulders. Holding on to father's head boy without a fear deftly moved into the hollow between relict’s two thick trunks.
– Ah! Be careful! – Nastya shouted to him, having fainted from the sight of such amateur balancing act.
For some time the boy looked down curiously at his companions, then he sat down, hanging down both legs, and began to greet everyone waving his palms.
– That's all! Yuori, get down from there! – Japanese professor commanded his son in his native language took the boy in his arms again and put him on the ground. – And why didn't you tell me about this before... about this lande... landmark? – he turned back to his friend.
– We didn't talk about it, so I didn't tell you. I wanted to register this tree as a natural monument, but I didn't bring the matter to the end. There was no time, we were doing something else at that time, you know, “the ideological support for the Communist party and Government’s course for "perestroika and acceleration”, – Mikhail joked about himself.
– We don't have every tree with kodama too.
– With what?
– Kodama means spirit. If the tree has a spirit, people know it. They pass on different legends to each other. Here, for example, is the legend of poor employee Haitaro. He married the beautiful Higo. She was the soul of a huge ancient tree. In Russian, it seems, willow ... willow – is there such a tree? Higo was the soul of the ancient willow tree. Haitaro didn't know about it. So, she died at the same hour when this willow was cut down to deliver to the emperor's palace, as the imperator planned to collect ancient wood around the country for to build a temple. Haitaro was very sad for his wife, beautiful Higo, to whom he devoted the whole life. They also had children, they told this story to their descendants too. So the legend was born. According to Japanese beliefs, anyone who decides to destroy the kodama tree for personal gain will end his life very badly. What do you think, Misha-san, does this oak have a soul?
– I think so. After all, there are legends about it too. They say that Emperor Peter the First himself came here to bow… You know, Ichiro-san, almost twenty years have passed since the "perestroika" times. Since then I've stopped to be a materialist. Especially after explosions of living houses in Moscow, and even more so - after explosions in New York on September eleventh, 2001. Besides, I've become very empathic, so, I empathize with others all the time, put myself to the place of victims.
– Hegelian... what's the name of a supporter of Hegel?
– Hegelian.
– That's right. You're a Hegelian now, Misha-san. But was a materialist two decades ago… It seems to me too, that Hegelianism is stronger than materialism. Marx's theory is inferior in this. Someone compared himself in relation to a working tool – an axe. He said that if a person does not use an axe, then it turns into useless parts, like such an ordinary souvenir. And if one person touches it, then it is no more a souvenir, but a tool for work.
– Yes, yes, Ichiro-san. Good example. It is the so-called basis, basis of everything that exists. And, for some reason, an axe is necessarily cited as an example – a tool of destruction. Why not to give an example of a trowel, or thyrsus – a tool of creation?
– Thyrsus? What is it thyrsus?
– According to Greek legend, thyrsus is a life-affirming baton. But it doesn't matter, because if you don't compare everything with an axe, then you won't have to chop anything – I'm speaking figuratively. Here, for example, this ancient Kuntsevo oak, it is a kind of the basis on which to educate generations and generations of people – that's what, as you said, is stronger. Undoubtedly stronger, Ichiro-san. It is much stronger than immersing society into ideological inventions, which are akin to a vile deception, and impudent forgery. As a result, we hear the lexicon of ordinary thieves in the course of banal mercenary showdowns!
2013. HANDMADE CRASH
– I'll go by car around the area, Vera Sergeevna, – Subprefect Bryakhin said to his secretary, heading to the exit from his reception room.
– All right, Ivan Ivanovich. And what should I tell Mr.Vindeev if he suddenly will call?
– Tell him I'll be on time, and... and... and that's all. Tell him I will be on time.
Today's secret meeting with the general developer subsequently promised great profits. Presented project, already agreed by General Architecture, provided not only for the building new high-speed highway, but also for the demolition of all old houses built, it seems, under Stalin. According to the recent government decree, it was supposed to be mega-thousandth commissioning of housing square meters, which have already been mostly bought by well-known Neconombank, as well as the building multistory office center and so-called "Technopark of Entertainments". The project itself, sent to Bryakhin by e-mail, especially its costings, promised to Subprefect many billion commissions, put the state official into persistent euphoria. His mind, in effort to feel no worse than many colleagues in urban management, immediately blushed with dreams of foreign citizenship and real property abroad. In view of the deadlines set by the builders, there was no time to doubt and think, after short looking at the provided material, he gave preliminary consent to see the pushy developer with his own eyes immediately.
They agreed to meet together with Vindeev at the edge of the residential area in suitable place near park, on the car lot. Everything seemed to be working out and would be fine… Meanwhile, when he got into the car, as always behind his staff driver, he was overcome by various thoughts, from the most incredible, fantastic to elementary everyday and close to the reality. "Where to put this money? It's foolish to refuse them! It's really possible to live richly and happily, to buy villa on the Cote d'Azur, do gardening or winemaking in his old age," – he dreamed with hope, "It will be necessary to open some company in the name of his son, or better yet the nephew, and withdraw funds there..."–"Ah-h! And if it's a prank? – it suddenly occurred to him, – Exactly! After all, today is the first of April - the joke day! Who could have made such a flighty hoax, huh? Somebody from former colleagues, the Comunist party or Komsomol companions? Or maybe the special services are checking for "lice"? Probably they're tracking him, bastards, everything you can expect from them!" – "What to do? How to behave with this impudent developer Vindeev? What is his name? Nicholay.... Nikolay Evstratovich or Evgrafovich?... What would to catch him on to make sure that he does not lie… Eh, I should have sent for this meeting my deputy at first!.. But, after all, an extra witness... together with Vera Sergeevna, even two prying ears are too much in such delicate matter..."– Bryakhin thought feverishly, now looking back, now trying to see in the rearview mirror - are they not watching, are they not spying on him, bitches?
– Stop somewhere here on parking. Let us wait, – he ordered the driver, – I told him number of our car, he will appear– will knock on the window. Then I’ll go for a walk with him, as soon as I get back, we will go back to the office,– he always brought his short plans to the attention of drivers who worked with him in two shifts, just in case to be someone for help.
At the appointed hour, super expensive black Porsche sports car silently pulled up. A kind of fashionable guy of about forty jumped out of the driver's seat, he was all in Adidas and labels, with iPhone in his hand.
– I am late?" No? – this person asked, sticking his head into the official state car window crack, – are you Ivan Ivanovich Bryakhin? Let's get acquainted: I am Nikolay Vindeev.
Subprefect’s foot stepped on the wet asphalt of the car parking.
– Yes, it's me, – Bryakhin said, getting out of the car, – and you, therefore, Mr. Vindeev Nikolai... uh-uh…
– Eevstratovich... you can just call me Nikolai.
– Let's get to know each other, Nikolai Evstratovich, – Bryakhin shook businessman's moist palm, noting, however, the innocent barely slipped look of his interlocutor , – "The hand is sweaty – it looks like he nervous too, specimen"…
They entered park, its unkempt part, completely overgrown with bare hazel, gnarled apple trees and dry last year's weeds, which covered a good part of the ancient oak grove around tile stitch tracks. Snow was rarely removed here in winter, and what was now melting presented unsightly picture of dirty snow drifts and garbage scattered everywhere.
– I got to know with your grandiose plans of local building. Impressive, – Bryakhin said vaguely, starting the conversation.
– Yes. We addressed to the Government and Ghiefarchitecture with the proposal of this two old quarters’ radical reconstruction, and, you know, we unexpectedly received active support! – Vindeev lied with confidence. He was extremely glad that with great difficulty it was finally possible to appease everyone, especially the city Urban Planning Council and financial structures, in possibility of the future development here, so long-awaited time for implementation of this super profitable project at last came. As much as subprefect Bryakhin was supposed to act as the extreme person in the whole matter, Vindeev decided at first to establish interaction with him, not even doubting that the govern official would object something to the upcoming building. "Of course, it may be some details here, – the businessman-developer thought, – but we'll overcome that too! It seems that it will be more difficult to persuade local populations release their Stalins' faters*."
– What deadlines are you going to meet? Why there are no more or less concrete dates in your plans? When are you going to start? – Bryakhin was questioning Vindeev tirelessly, absolutely forgetting about his previous intention to "catch" on something the developer who had fallen on his head.
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* “faters” is “flats” in thieves’ slang (auth.)
– You see, Ivan Ivanovich, we would like to turn the local reserved areas into real exclusive Moscow corner in order to maximize prices of housing in Kuntsevo. All communications are here, it’s only fifteen minutes by metro from here to the city center!.. In addition, we are the main concessionaires in the construction of the high-speed highway here. We need to organize explanatory work among local residents, hold a number of propagandistic meetings with them. Sertanly, it will take some time, accordingly, the timing of this project is slightly blurred. But, it seems, maximum comfort expects the buyers of our new apartments here, they will have something to pay for! I hope we'll work together wonderfully, Mr. Bryakhin, won't we?.. The authorities told me a lot of good things about you, praised you as talented organizer and recommended you highly. I have no doubt that you and I will become firm friends,– Vindeev explained to the official, trying to put as much hidden significance into his words as possible.
With these conversations, the interlocutors approached Kuntsevo oak tree that stood in their way, preparing together with its brethren to meet its four hundredth spring with spreading, lush greenery.
– We need to organize everything very well, Ivan Ivanovich, in terms of financing and financial flows distribution, – developer continued, stopping not far from Kuntsevo giant oak, – the first bank tranche has already been credited to me, in advance. Thirty percent is ours. It is a commission, if you like. They will have to be divided brotherly into six equal parts, including for you, for me, and three parts for city structures. I'll tell you later who our beneficiary is …
– You named five parts, Nikolay, – Bryakhin said, he liked precision and correctness in everything, especially in money, – And who else is it?
– Ah! This... this is... – Vindeev raised his innocent look and index finger to that part of the spring sky where dense branches of the relic oak had ended; – In general, I'll give you all bank details, Ivan Ivanovich, one of these days. Absolutely and certainly.
– Well, all right. Well, let it be. But what about checking, to what writing off? If the tax inspection will come, find violations, arrest accounts, sealed the accounting, they will also arrest me, in the end, eh? And what? To prison, or what? Wow, a perspective! What do you think, Nikolay, eh? – Bryakhin, not too experienced in such matters, was worried.
– Oh! I plead you, Ivan Ivanovich! What's the tax inspection? – Vindeev objected to him with fervor, – You won't find a common language with them, or what? Legal, consulting and some other services?.. Building sector is a state within a state, so that you know. You may organize a professional education company, for protection of construction plants, and even for timber harvesting – for anything. You and your colleagues should think through everything so that the mosquito does not sharpen the nose. It's not for nothing that we finally accepted you into our team! Otherwise, Ivan Ivanovich, after all, you may also have, uh-uh... troubles, uh-uh... complications, let us say. But, let's not talk about these sad things. I hope for you!
According to presented plan, the "preparing period" has come. They began to act in the same spring. An architectural exhibition was organized in the local school. Dozens of "volunteers", or, simply, young people hired for meager salary, mostly students, went with subscription lists along the courtyard driveways and stops of public transport to agitate for "reconstruction" of already excellent, strong houses. People were supporting willingly, in three years they managed to collect as many as two thousand signatures from the third-party citizens.
All this time Bryakhin also did not doze off, having connected his relatives and his son to the disbursement of the "commissions", that fell on him from the building sector. "If anything happens with me, all will remain for posterity," – he thought, remembering how a few years ago one of his former colleagues in official adventures was shot in these places. As a result of such energetic activity, Bryakhin managed to acquire the spare citizenship of well known in financial circles island state, where he also bought small manor with luxury villa on the seashore.
However, troubles followed. The first sign was what happened at the general reconstructed quarters residents meeting prescribed in legislation. There developer’s representative introduced to the public a firm that had contracted to undertake vigorously the aforementioned building a "new modern housing". As in the good old Soviet times, which Bryakhin was always missing, this show was organized, all the roles were distributed and speakers were instructed. Despite the hot support of paid "proponents" from among fictional "volunteers", the residents of old houses presented at this meeting said united "No!" to the upcoming reconstruction. They expressed their categorical disagreement with the provided architectural project by not even two, but more than three thousand signatures of not third-party citizens, but local residents. In addition, they filed lawsuits to all possible judicial instances, motivating that they have quite comfortable flats in brick houses with good design and high ceilings in the green area near oldest park, and their living conditions are incomparably higher than those offered.
Bryakhin, who had never sued anyone before, and was not involved in any courts, his soul sank into his heels. The same evening, he invited Vindeev to talk.
– What are we going to do, Nikolay? – he asked the developer, pushing him whole box with three thousand protest signatures across the lacquered table, – And here is just a copy of their statement of claim, – he handed stamped sheets to businessman with trembling hands.
– Damn it! Here are some more gifts! – irritated Vindeev exclaimed after reviewing documents, - But you assured me here that everything would go like clockwork!? How to believe the official people after that!
– In this situation, I only hope for you, Nikolay Evstratovich. We will beat off local lawsuits, but I did not count on lawsuits in higher instances, – Bryakhin said, swallowing the reproach.
Vindeev was haunted by the first tranche of money transferred to him in advance, hanging over him like Damocles’ sword. It was necessary to act without delay, so that next year they would not run into bank fines, which would have to be paid not by selling flats, but by gaining new loans for housing building, that is, with the money of housing that has not yet been built. This time, Nikolay decided to do without special bonuses for important people and try to press with authority, through the Department of Justice of the Chiefadministration.
– Viktor Petrovich, I want to meet with you. Can I? – he asked one of his former sidekick who worked in the Covernment structures.
– And how long have we switched to official tone, Nikolay? – friendly voice came from his mobile phone, that fact gave the businessman a hope for success.
– Deal!
The so-called "Buildhall" was located not far from the elite village on Rublevskoe high road. It was a manor of several hundred hectares with great palace in the park, with pond, comfortable rooms for guests, large greenhouse and other buildings in the modern "oligarchic" style, asserting the wealth and luxury of the current Russian business owners, in particular, the construction industry owners. It was here that Viktor Petrovich Kikin, the Chief Legal Adviser, appeared for lunch on Saturday in the dazzling Silver Shadow Rolls-Royce sent for him with three sixes on the license plates.
– Did you like the wheelbarrow? – Vindeev asked, meeting his former sidekick at the main entrance of his palace, – I won it on a bet last year in London at the meeting of developers. I give it to you! I already have such model.
– Thanks, Nikolay. We are forced people, are not allowed to accept expensive gifts, – Kikin sweetly dissembled in response being surprised by the luxurious treatment.
– Don't worry. I'll give it to whoever you tell. Send me only the last name and passport details. Or, in general, I may give it by proxy… I have a problem, you see, with the court. That's really not expected!.. Could you talk with, what's his name... with the chief judge, Goosev, I think, or Gooseinov... in general, a bird last name… Residents of the Moscow microdistrict had sued us; they do not allow us in any way to begin reconstruction of the old residential areas. Everything has been done according to the law, there is permission from the city authorities, public hearings have been held, and so on. But local residents brought thousands of signatures against the reconstruction and filed lawsuits in all possible courts, raised a scandal, as if private property was being taken away from them. If this goes on, and we will follow the populace, we'll never carry out any reconstruction and won't make any money. Let them consider it properly and publish it in media. It is necessary to make a legal precedent so that no one in the future can interfere not only with our, but also with any other developers in general. Will you do it, eh?
Kikin understood the task, did not postpone it, and the very next week contacted the chief judge to bring him up to date. He gave the most compelling arguments: every third inhabitant of the country needs to improve housing conditions promised to him since Soviet times, therefore, the Government’s housing construction program is the most socially significant, priority, and the building business is the most profitable. Residents? What a residents! They don't understand much. Only authorities understand much, they are ready to compensate the private property of kuntsevo residents in accordance with the law, without losses, with equivalent flats in their native area. Chief legal adviser council was so expressive and convincing that Chief judge, finally, heeded his assurances. The proceeding lasted two months and had ended with the victory of the developer's representative, despite of many passionate arguments of four experienced advocates from two dozen plaintiffs.
Corona virus pandemic that suddenly broke out saved him. The construction was frozen for a whole year. At the height of the epidemic, when everything have been frozen around, the economy was on the word of honor and payments from the budget, Nikolay was lucky to talk with the head of the state himself, who invited our hapless businessman to his helicopter to fly around the places chosen by the city government for building new hospitals and treatment centers.
– I want to pay your attention, Mr. President, to this place, – Vindeev dared to say, pointing to the ancient oak grove stretching under the porthole, – Our construction here, as elsewhere, is now frozen, but we expect the resumption of works in future spring and summer, as soon as the epidemic will go down. Naturally, we are suffering huge losses today. The only hope is that you, dear Mr. President, will support the industry, provide financial assistance to the building sector from the budget.
– Sorry, but how will you build here? There are residential houses and park?! – he was surprised.
– I was told that there is one relict oak tree growing in these places, has been surviving for more than one century. That's why they organized here the recreational zone, – leader of the nation, always reverent about mysticism and legends, looked at the developer with searching look.
– Don't worry, don't worry, Mr. President! We will really save all the memorable places. Surely! This circumstance will only add to the housing cost, this realized project will pay off faster. We also expect that the new state highway will bring us good incomes. Everything will be fine, I assure you!
... Less than two months later, inspired by the attention of national leader, Vindeev held a "docking" meeting in his office about organization of works in the Kuntsevo residential areas.
– Colleagues, President of the country has approved the reconstruction of these two residential areas, – he addressed the presented there "top managers" , pointing to the buildings project in isometric, – I talked with him in the midst of quarantine. Here, as they say, there would be no happiness, but misfortune helped. Therefore, as soon as the restrictions will be lifted, we need to be fully equipped. I propose to do this: let the head of the construction department report to us now what is the state of affairs, and then we will exchange opinions.
– But what to report, Nikolay Evstratovich? Everything remained at the same level. The reconstruction territory is still fenced with corrugated metal fence on a concrete lining. One private military company has been involved in the protection, which closely interacts with the local police station. Construction materials according to the required list, slabs, concrete and others, if suddenly tomorrow the covid prohibitions would be removal, we will deliver them tomorrow. It remains to prepare this place for construction, cutting down trees and cleaning ground. Then we’ll start digging the pit and installing the construction crane. Accordingly, all deadlines are shifted of about a year.
– All right, colleagues. Now about relocation. What will the relocation group tell us? – Vindeev asked his propaganda assistant, she was also the head of this direction.
– By joint efforts, Nikolay Eestratovich, nevertheless, we managed to reverse the mood of local residents. Both grandmothers and grandfathers were helping us, from those, who we had attracted before Covid for a small fee to the rally in defense of upcoming construction. And our visual agitation too, which we posted on balconies of local residents, also for a small fee, only ten thousand, you'll agree, quite a bit for the indefinite lease. Our banners are still hanging there. In general, even before the quarantine, two families had already moved to the new flats, freeing up living space. In this case, we work closely with the housing Department – there are a lot of settlers. Resistance is still strong, two lawsuits are pending in the courts. By law, we have to wait for the end of trial.
– Oh, what a laws, damn it!.. I want to thank you for your ingenuity and invention. I was especially impressed by girl friend in white fur coat, strolling along the fence. Is she really crazy?
– Local alcoholic, Nikolay Evstratovich. But, we also used her.
– Well done. Good job! Continue the same and act together with the housing Department, so that everyone will be relocated by the beginning of year! We have two more high-rise buildings in line…
– Can I ask you a question, Nikolaiy Eevstratovich? – concessionaires representative voiced, – The construction of the highway is also approaching this area. What to do with the oak grove?
– What an oak grove?
– Well, for example, there are memorable places, a relict park, and so on…
Vindeev didn't want at all be involved to disputes either historians or conservationists, to solve problems that only prevented the achievement of desired profit, sparkling streams of money.
– Colleagues, the reconstruction is going according to approved plan, – he said irritably to everyone present at the meeting, – Everything that hinders the implementation of our goals should be eliminated. As far as I know, there is not park there, but wilds. In addition, here is the Department of Nature Management’s conclusion with the permission to cut down two thousand trees. We don't have time to relax – go ahead!
2020. ABAY
"– A brick for no reason at all,"–
unknown man interrupted
impressively, – will never fall on
anyone's head in ever time."
M.A. Bulgakov. "The Master and Margaret"
He had been tossed. The note tied to napkins had a name: Àbay Sergeevich Kyrgyzov, although handwriting was not enough clear, the letter "y" could be read as "u". In the orphanage, he was recorded as Kurguzov, without a hint of the new baby's foreign origin, because it happened in the end of 1991 – the collapse of the USSR had taken place. The orphan's unusual name, however, later became the subject of all ridicule kinds among peers, boys of an orphanage in one of the cities in southern Siberia. In junior classes, he was often insultingly teased. However, this circumstance only tempered his will and faith in his own abilities. The boy Abay grew up dexterous, strong, had only fives in physical education, and did not hesitate to hit back to any offender.
He learned about his origin only at the age of fourteen, at the end of the eighth class secondary school, when the one day he was visited by an eastern-looking woman in a Muslim headscarf, who called herself as his aunt.
– I am Gulai, your mother's sister, – she informed in a confidential tone, trying to look calm, - How do you do?
"One might think that all these fourteen years she only cared about what have been happened with him, to no one else!" – Abay noted angrily to himself.
– I see you for the first time, ma'am. Why should I report you how I'm doing? Maybe I don't have any affairs to do, – he said defiantly, feeling at the same time some relief from this news that, finally, it is possible to clarify the foremost questions that tormented him from early childhood.
– I am your mother's sister, – Gulai repeated insistently, – Zamira died in childbirth, and you were sent to the orphanage. Your father, Sergey, persisted on that, he wanted to take you after his army service. He hired the army and went to fight abroad, he was killed there, – apparently, all these words were difficult to the woman, – Your father was Russian, you can take his last name, Abay, they will give you passport as to Zavyalov.
– I didn't know him, what the hell I need his last name for? I am satisfied with mine surname, I was and will be Kurguzov,– Abay objected then.
One more time he saw his aunt just before the final exams, when she came to draw up some documents on guardianship, but they did not meet again. Upon reaching adulthood, he was released from the orphanage and given apartment in the old and decrepit building for demolition, where he settled with his girlfriend, his former classmate. He has got a job as courier. His cohabitant Verochka was naive girl, barely pulled at school, but she cooked deliciously and, it seems, she loved Abay recklessly, expected a child from him. Just before being drafted into the army, they decided to get married and registered. In the third month of military service, his wife informed by letter that they had a son. Abai was so happy that during training sessions he arranged a "salute" with automatic burst into the air from a Kalashnikov combat machine, for which he was sitting on the "lip" for a whole week and cleaning toilets.
They decided to name their son Andrey, because in Greek this name means "brave", that is, a brave man who appeared in this world. But Abay did not have to see him. Arriving home at the end of his military service, he was unpleasantly surprised by the absence of members of his small family did not meeting him at the railway station. At home, there was a note on the table: "I sorry, our marriage was mistake. I will give you divorce as soon as you ask. I will inform you of my address later on demand." Thus, life in a legal marriage did not work out at first.
Abay decided to get a job as plumber and, since he had a school preliminary training as locksmith, he enrolled in the relevant courses. The study was paid, so in order to repay the loan, he had to ride a lot as a courier and do one-time works. He still didn't have any real comrades, didn’t have friendship with the lads from neighboring houses and shunned local girls fearing violent conflicts. Neighbors, mostly residents of nighboring yards of dilapidated housing stock, where leaks appeared every now and then, electrical panels burned out and plaster fell, were always satisfied with the Abay's work, he approached any case thoroughly and conscientiously. He didn't really grieve. There was enough money not only for alimony payments, but also for his own more or less comfortable living. Abay bought good smartphone, tablet computer and even used Lada car. It was expected that soon the old barracks would be demolished and all residents would be relocated to the new house under construction nearby.
But suddenly misfortune happened – he was robbed. Not at all, they took away not his apartment or his car, not the computer and smartphone – they took his documents, passport, military ID, certificate, driver's license and bank cards – everything that was stored in a thick purse which he always had with him. The precious purse was pulled right out of his hands one summer while walking in the city park at the very moment when he was standing in line, intending to pay cash for ice cream. And it happened, unfortunately, just on the eve of submitting documents for a new flat in the newly built house. In this connection, our hero had to postpone long-awaited move until the end of the bureaucratic delay to restore his personality.
Just in those days, Abay found a suitable job as a lumberjack with one enterprising Chinese who was engaged in timber harvesting on the leased area in taiga. There was no need for original passport. The owner accepted only electronic copy from him, and took him as the apprentice for probation with small salary at first. It was necessary to get two and a half hours to the place of work by train, or to live hereabout in the hostel paid by this Chinese. Abay chose the latter to save on transport. In addition, he hoped that in absence of tenant, the authorities, nevertheless, would not evict from his old living space. As it turned out, this hope was futile. When he returned home to the place of residence, he was shown both the court decision and several undelivered written warnings. The bailiffs were quite ready to take his property out into the street. Outraged to the depths of his soul, he rushed to the city property department and showed his new passport issued by that time, certificate from the police, all his new documents available, and demanded the issuance of a viewing order for an apartment. Among all the papers, the only one was missing – that was a basis for providing him former housing – certificate that he was orphan, pupil of orphanage. There was also missing a week or two to get this document, since his short vacation was coming to an end.
Then he went to his former client, familiar police officer, told him everything and asked for help.
– Do not suffer, my dear, do not worry, – the district police officer reassured him, – Write out to me, as a civilian, the general proxy for real estate registration, and be calm: when you'll arrive, you will immediately move into the new flat! Don't doubt it!
Abay did so. He took all the most valuable things from home and went to the logging this time not by electric train, but by his own used car. When he returned two months later, the old house was gone, and the new one was inhabited almost to the roof. His familiar district police officer disappeared along with the general proxy issued to him.
There was no choice: it was necessary to start life anew, go back to the Chinese logging. Our hero was angry at the whole world, and compensated for all his aggression with physical labor, took most difficult areas, sawed largest trunks, cut out the most impassable blockages. Once while fighting with a giant fir Abay hitted into the bear hole. Great bear ran in panic from its home, but spared the lumberjack armed with powerful auto-saw making terrible noises, and did not attack him.
Meanwhile, no bad without good* – thanks to the acquired rage and extreme bitterness, Abay mastered the skill of felling perfectly, his productivity has increased significantly. Looking at that, the owner appointed him as a foreman. Earnings started again, up to ten thousand rubles a day! Abay got lucky again, getting money for relatively comfortable life. He began to think about taking forest area for himself business too, and constituted his own business under the name of IE "Kurguzov. The Brigade WOW!".
At the height of the covid epidemic, rumors began to spread in logging brigade, where several Chinese worked, that the owner intend to sell his business in Russia. The work stalled. In order not to waste time, Kurguzov, together with his deputy Alexey Kedrov, drove to Moscow, where, despite of the restrictions caused by epidemic, according to Internet search engines, there were vacancies for loggers and logging specialists.
_________________
* Russian proverb (auth.)
They drove for a whole week. Arriving at the place, they parked their car among the same seekers of earnings at spontaneous polygon formed near Moscow Ring Road.
– O-oh! That's exactly what I need! – exclaimed the employer's agent, brisk bespectacled man in camouflage, with cigarette in his teeth, noticing desperate job seekers in non-resident car "Lada" with sheet announcement placed on the windshield: "We are cutting wood. Any job", - Are you standing here for a long time?
– We have just arrived,– Abay replied, being surprised at such an active demand for loggers in the capital.
– And how will you prove me your skill?
– Which one? We can do everything, even to cook borscht! – Alexey, really had good culinary skills, grinned.
Abay showed the bespectacled man several photos on his smartphone, mostly spectacular selfies at the largest trunks on the background of logging.
– Nice, wait a tice, I'll be right back, – the brisk man threw vaguely, slapping his palm on the roof of "Lada", that gave Siberians the hope of success. Finally, he photographed a full-face picture of Abay's cherry car.
An hour later, the agent returned with a digital pass for the nonresident car and said confidentially:
– Attach this xiva* uner your glass, and follow me – do you see that crimson boomer* forward? Follow it! – the bespectacled man pointed to the parking lot, where a brand new BMW shone with all its facets.
They were settled in the two-room door flat from the construction illiquid. In fact, living quarters were on the ground floor, damp, poorly heated, which was especially disturbing in the upcoming autumn-winter period. It had to buy bed linen with their own money. In the next room two more freelancers were living, also nonresident, high-rise workers from the Urals. They quickly found a common language with them, covering table with treats from Alexey. The brisk bespectacled man, Igor, came to them several times he was also invited to the table, discussing the upcoming saws. At first, they worked in courtyards and territories adjacent to old residential areas, sawed dry, sick trees that interfered with movement of transport. The job was piecework, depending on the amount of dead wood cut. The customer was paid little money, but since there were also no earnings in Siberia, there was no point in going back and cuckooing there without doing anything.
______________
* Russian thieves’ slang (auth.)
One day, closer to winter, Igor brought with him to dinner an important grey-haired boss of the largest construction in the district, who introduced himself as Vladislav Sergeich. He refused the Siberian treats, but, taking off his helmet, sat down at the table and asked:
– I’ve heard that you led a team of loggers in taiga? Right?
– Why we have led a team? I am still foreman today, and Alexey is my deputy, – Abay corrected the developer,– We are here to earn money.
– Good, – Vladislav Sergeich stated in a half–whisper, and added aloud: - I have a hackwork for you here for a couple millions. What do you think about it? But, only unformally.. . by cash. Eh?
– What kind of work? – Abay asked with interest.
– What kind of, what kind of... – the gray–haired boss, who apparently did not have good abilities in eloquence, grumbled, standing up, - Your profile, guys, right. Deforestation. Come on, It's better to show you. It's easier!
They got in the "boomer", Igor's car, deciding that it would be faster on wheels. The territory of the construction area with a length of kilometer and a width of hundred meters was tightly enclosed with the solid high fence. Inside it was a valley of strong trunks of oak, willow and ash-tree, overgrown densely with wild hazel. The ground was littered with the dense layer of wet autumn foliage.
– This all needs to be cut down completely, – Vladislav Sergeich said, showing an imaginary wide strip to the horizon with his hands, – There are two thousand trunks here, right? In the shortest possible time. To cut down to the ground. Then you’ll grind into shavings and take to the plant. It'll be road here.
– We won't be able to do it together in a short time, – Alexey assumed incredulously.
– It looks like it. – Abay agreed, – We need about twenty people. We'll do it in two weeks.
The gray-haired man took off his helmet, smoothed his hair and, grunting, said:
– In short. You're setting up a firm, right? Recruiting a contingent. I'm transferring money to you. You do the work and get liquidated. And don't let me see you in Moscow. Right? Twenty–five percent to me by bank transfer, where and for what to transfer - I will tell you. Okay?
– Then three millions, and an advance payment of thirty percent, – Abay offered thinking a little, knowing from his experience that payroll charges is to much more than third of total amount, – I will have to pay taxes and contributions. Otherwise we won't be able to execute our liquidation.
The gray-haired man squinted, as if he gathered to say: "Look you! What a literate!", and as if he cut down:
– Okay. All right, I'll give you three and an advance. Recruit people. Igor to help you. Take the action!
In the evening, they made the calculation together, outlined plan of upcoming actions. Abay immediately sent message to the senior accountant of his IE: "Urgently! All hands to Moscow! We will pay for the road. We will accommodate you. There are earnings!"
In a month, they managed to recruit thirteen from own people, and seven – to get from the same Moscow "labor market" outside the Ring Road, where together with Alexey, they shone as job seekers until recently. They established new company "Salute-666" (other numbers were occupied), received the bank account and banking details.
At the beginning of winter, the covid restrictions were finally removed, and it was possible to start their work, because an advance payment has been received to the bank account. One evening Abay decided together with Alexey to walk around the upcoming place of action – an old Moscow park, which the "Brigade WOW!" should be cut down for a construction site. In comparison to the vast wilds of Siberian taiga, this area seemed to them simple, there was quite free approach to each tree from all sides, and those that grew near fence could be filed down towards park so that they would not fall over the fence on the street roadway.
With one giant oak, in fact, it was necessary to join the real battle and show all his strength and dexterity. It was a tree trunk of six or seven meters in girth. Abay leaned against it and looked up. "It's about fifty meters here, dangerous to climb without insurance," - it was flashed in logger's head.
Suddenly, from the height of giant crown, he heard clearly and categorically: "Abay, you will cut down the branch that you will climb yourself. You will not survive the misfortunes, your descendants will perish!"
"Did it seem to me...?" - thought our hero and immediately became proud in response: "You won't scare me, baby I've already been scared, and have seen not like you in my life!"
– That's what,– he said to Alexey, patting relict tree's bark with his palm, – You will start commanding our brigade of loggers from the other end of the park, and at this time I will take over this burly one and join you later.
The next morning, wearing "cats"* on his feet, prudently throwing insurance from the mountaineering crossbow borrowed from high-altitude neighbors, he climbed on the giant oak’s trunk, to saw. At first, it was necessary to destroy oak's powerful upper branches and then cut out the lower ones. It had to keep a heavy power saw on weight all the time, both on a tripod and without one, and change equipment too. The work is not up to a strong man, including even Abay, who had not only Siberian endurance, but also large experience as a lumberjack. Repeatedly he came down to the ground to rest. And, every time, after making a short smoke break, our hero enthusiastically climbed up again, saying: "Everything is fine, baby, if there was a motive that gave the birth to you so it should be an interest for someone who will kill you! That will make him famous!"
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* Climbing device calling “cats” (auth.)
By the lunch break, our hero became so tired that, forgetting about danger, he pulled the safety rope to get up, and huge branch mistakenly sawn by him crashed on the ground a few centimeters from his head. By the lunch break, our hero became so tired that, forgetting about danger, he pulled the safety rope to get up, and huge branch mistakenly sawn by him crashed on the ground a few centimeters from his head. Looking at the place from which he had just almost flown to his forefathers, Abay thought with annoyance about the predictions of his relict victim: "Me too, fucking prophet! Don't chatter here in vain, a plant! Do not interrupt me to work!" Only in the evening, completely exhausted, he finally reached the roots of the giant oak. Relict was defeated. At this time, Alexey and his team were already finishing cutting down the ordered section of the ancient park.
All the next week, they handed over about twenty tons of raw materials to the wood-chip mill, while their proceeds flowed to developer.
– This lawlessness must be stopped! Let these thieves transfer money to us, we have earned everything! – Alexey was sincerely resented.
– Never mind, Lyosha! We will submit them all documents again as soon as we'll get our money,– Abay reassured him,– The main thing, the main is you must keep all documents, all the invoices and bills – take care of everything!
By the end of December, it had to be completed their Moscow business, they wanted to celebrate coming New Year at home. Vladislav Sergeyevich did not cheat, promptly delivered the suitcase with cash, so that the salary to the employees was paid on time. Then they went to hand over to the bank available balance of cash.
– Maybe, fuck it? Why we must deposit them to bank? Taxes and so on… let's break away home right today, huh? – Alexey thought aloud on the way to the lending institution, adjusting his seat belt.
– No, Lyosha. We have to do as we promised. After the liquidation, we will still be handed cash, or they transfer money to my card, minus, of course, tax deduction. We will put them in half with you and will share with the state, as it should be. But it is dangerous too to carry suitcase with money everywhere, – Abay objected to his companion, in whose trustworthiness he was also not quite sure.
They stopped at a red light on the crossroads. Minibus stood in front. The left row, blocking the sun, was occupied by one massive roaring trailer. Gigant concrete blocks were loaded “house” to the top. Avoiding misfortune, Abay was about to move his car near the cabin of dangerous neighbor, when suddenly he heard a short whistling sound on the left. The side cable holding concrete slabs suddenly burst, and tremendous building block covered our hero's flimsy little "Lada" with all its weight in a matter of seconds. "What a power!! Is it really true?! But probably I can't take such blow!" – it was his last thought. He didn't think about his descendants at that moment.
E P I L O G
The next day, short note with small photo appeared in one of Moscow free newspapers in corresponding section:
"Terrible event happened on the crossroad of Y****** street and M****** highway. The heavy trailer carrying oversized construction details suddenly lost one of the giant blocks, which fell with all its weight on the passenger auto standing near it. Lada 2107 car was flattened like a tin can. The driver and his passenger both died. The accident could have occurred both because of bad fastening of concrete structures on the fixtures, or exceeding the critical inclination angle of cargo vehicle on the bumpy roadway surface. Police are investigating causes of the accident."
The note did not say where millions of cash had gone from the car's interior.
The decision of city authorities to assign status "Natural monument" to Kuntsevo oak had taken place immediately after the relict's death. Someone from the capital's "conservationists" apparently decided to take this step not out of love for the Fatherland, but in order to keep voters loyal without losing their relationships with developers.
"Developer" Vindeev and his construction company did not survive economic crisis due to endless financial fraud. Nikolai Yevstratovich was forced to sell his construction "pyramid", which was barely standing on its feet, at huge losses to a more persistent and pragmatic destroyer of Moscow neighborhoods.
As for the future of the Russian state, it is still waiting for its fate.
june 03.2023. Moscow
Basis - English version
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