The Dream Begins
The Tsar’s Dragons: Book Two
Catrin Collier
In contrast to those who joined wagon trains to seek their fortune in the American West, John Hughes and his workers trek east. Shipping the machinery needed for his ironworks across the steppe by bullock train, Hughes heads for the land he’s bought from Count Beletsky, who has no time for either foreigners or industry. Beletsky is at odds with his wilful, forward-thinking son, Alexei, who is protected by his quick-witted grandmother, the Dowager Catherine Ignatova.
Nearby is the Cossack village of Alexandrovka, where men hew coal out of shallow pits, and a Jewish shtetl, home to Nathan Kharber, a doctor forced to return to his village by the death of his parents. To Nathan's horror, he discovers his sister Ruth has fallen in love with Alexei. He knows, as they do, that if their love is discovered both risk being ostracized, if not killed, by their communities.
The trek from the port of Taganrog to the immigrants’ new home is long, onerous, and beset by problems when the autumn rains begin. Fighting mud and disease, Hughes’s party are escorted by the Tsar’s Cossack soldiers. There, on the journey, Alexei discovers it is not only the civilian Cossacks he and Ruth need to fear, but an entire regiment hell bent on wiping Jews from the face of the earth …
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter One
Oakleigh, Dr Edwards’ rented house
High Street, Merthyr, June 1870
Richard woke when someone tapped his bedroom door. He croaked, ‘come in.’
‘I thought you might like company. But I see I’ve disturbed you. I’ll go.’
‘Please don’t, Mrs Edwards.’ Richard moved restlessly in the bed. ‘I’m spending so much time sleeping in the day I’m not sleeping at night.’
‘If you’re lying awake, Peter can give you a draught. Every doctor and nurse knows the best medicine is unbroken sleep.’
‘Thank you. You and the doctor are very kind. All the Mr Edwardses have done so much for my family. Taking care of Anna and my brothers as well as me and arranging my mother’s funeral. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.’
‘Edward, Glyn, and Peter saw to everything for your mother’s sake. If their brother Tom hadn’t been killed a few weeks after he’d married her, you, your brothers, and Anna would be their nephews and niece. As for Peter and me, we’ve enjoyed having our personal patient to practise on. You helped us keep our hand in while our travel arrangements are being finalised.’ She straightened the bed cover. ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised when Richard gritted his teeth. ‘It’s the nurse in me. I can’t get used to caring for a patient without Matron checking my bed making.’
‘What’s the time, Mrs Edwards?’
‘The clock’s just struck six. The funeral service will begin any minute.’ She opened the curtains wide enough for him to see the sun hanging low over the rooftops across the road.
‘I can’t believe Mam’s dead.’
‘It won’t be easy for you to come to terms with her loss, as you’re in no condition to attend her funeral. But your mother would have been more concerned that you conserve your strength than go to the ceremony. Do you want to pass urine or open your bowels?’
Richard blushed.
‘Both are perfectly natural functions, Richard.’
‘I didn’t mind you doing everything for me when I was helpless, but I’m getting stronger.’
‘Not strong enough to look after yourself quite yet. But as you’re coming to Russia with us we should get you out of bed tomorrow, if only for an hour.’ She folded back the bedclothes, handed him a glass urine bottle, and left him in privacy.
She returned five minutes later, disposed of the bottle, and brought him a bowl of warm water, soap, and a towel so he could wash his hands. She frowned when she saw him bring his knees up in pain.
‘The bruise in your groin?’
He nodded.
‘I hoped it would heal without rupturing. The last thing we want is an open wound that will attract infection. Do you mind if I take a look?’
He was grateful for her tact in asking, but he was in too much pain to refuse.
She untied the string on his pyjama trousers, took a pad of clean gauze, and pressed the ugly black and purple wound in the crease between his thigh and abdomen.
Richard was grateful for Sarah’s gentle touch but to his mortification, on this occasion, he found it too gentle. The more he tried to divert his thoughts from Sarah the larger and harder his erection.
‘This will hurt.’ Sarah made a fist and punched his penis at the base.
It had the desired effect.
‘I’m sorry you had to do that, Mrs Edwards.’
‘No need to apologise.’ She dressed the wound and retied his pyjamas. ‘I’ll clear this bowl and dressings and bring you a snack.’
Sarah returned five minutes later with a tray that held a plate of biscuits and two glasses of lemonade. ‘You’ve recovered from my poking and prodding?’ She pulled a chair up to the bed.
‘Yes.’
‘Liar, I see pain lines at the corners of your mouth.’ She handed him a glass.
He looked past her to the window.
‘Dr Edwards was right when he said your mother’s death wasn’t your fault, Richard. You do believe him, don’t you?’
‘If I hadn’t gone up the mountain to meet Alice Perkins, her father wouldn’t have been angry with me, and none of this would have happened.’
‘Your mother fainted and hit her head. It could have happened any time.’
‘It happened because she was told I was hurt.’
‘Or for one of any number of reasons, Richard. Had she fainted before?’
He didn’t give her a direct answer. ‘She would never eat enough. Always tried to keep most of our food for my brothers, me, and Anna because she thought we needed it more than her.’
‘She was right, Richard, growing children do need more food than adults. She’d be horrified at the thought of you feeling guilty about the way she died. If you want to honour your mother and her life, the best thing you can do is to live as she would have wanted you to, in an honourable way. What would she have thought of you going to Russia with Mr Hughes’s expedition?’ Sarah deliberately moved the conversation on.
‘I think she would have been pleased. None of us thought of leaving Merthyr after we came here but only because we didn’t have enough money to buy a train ticket to go as far as Pontypridd, let alone leave the country.’
‘Mr Hughes will be paying the travelling expenses of everyone who’s going with him.’
‘I hoped he would from what Mr Edwards said. It’s not just travelling to a whole other country, it’s the idea of helping build a new works and town. I never thought I’d be part of anything like that. The way Mr Edwards talked, it seems so exciting. Starting a new life and a new job where I’ll be able to work my way up. Perhaps become a foreman and in time even a manager.’
‘It is exciting, Richard. That’s why the doctor and I decided to join Mr Hughes. We want to be part of his dream.’
‘Do you know him?’
‘Peter and I met Mr Hughes in London when he interviewed Peter for the post of medical advisor to his company. He’s a remarkable man who cares for his employees and not only by paying decent wages. He organises lectures and concerts for the workers in his shipyard in London. Not many men intent on constructing a new ironworks in a foreign country would think about medical facilities. Mr Hughes is building a twelve-bed hospital there that Peter will oversee and I will manage as matron. For us it’s the cha
nce of a lifetime. Neither the doctor nor I expected we’d ever be in charge of our own medical facility.’
‘Will you stay there – in Russia?’
‘We’ve no intention of travelling all that way to return within a year or two. The journey will take weeks, possibly months.’
‘Months?’ Richard echoed.
‘How were you at geography at school?’
‘Not as good as I was at mathematics and science.’
‘I’ll get the atlas. Then you can see for yourself how far we have to go. Right across the Mediterranean, Black Sea, and the Sea of Azov. We’ll dock in Taganrog. Glyn said the new works are being built about sixty-five miles as the crow flies inland from the port.’
‘Taganrog,’ Richard repeated.
‘You’ve heard of it?’
He shook his head. ‘It sounds as though it should be in a country full of jungles, lions, and elephants.’
‘There won’t be any jungles or lions. Although Glyn said there are wolves, bears, boar, deer, and elk as well as the foxes and badgers we have here. There’ll also be freezing cold snowy winters, wet springs, and hot dry summers. As soon as you get out of bed we’ll have you measured by the tailor and order you a new winter wardrobe.’
‘I’ve no money for clothes, Mrs Edwards.’
‘Mr Hughes will be taking a stock for all his workers to purchase when needed. I’ll make sure some are in your size.’ She left her chair. ‘I’ll get that atlas.’
After Sarah walked out Richard realised she’d stayed with him to stop him from dwelling on the service in St Tydfil’s cemetery. He loved Alice desperately but he wasn’t blind to her faults. He doubted she’d have taken the time to distract or comfort someone in mourning. From her reaction to the few ‘liberties’ he’d dared take, he suspected she’d have disposed of his untimely erection in a far more brutal manner.
He supressed the disloyal thought. Mrs Edwards was a nurse and the profession demanded kindness. Alice was years younger and through no fault of her own, naïve and barely educated. She had no interest in reading, and couldn’t understand why he borrowed so many books from Mr Edwards. But he was confident that, given time, he’d change Alice. She’d be different when he took her away from her father’s house and introduced her to a life outside of gowns, fashion, and trivia. She’d become more considerate and caring, just like Mrs Edwards. He was certain of it.
Court off John Street
Georgetown, Merthyr, June 1870
Anna kicked and lashed out. She tried to scream but Ianto split the side of her lips by forcing his fist further into her mouth, effectively gagging her. The more she struggled, the tighter Ianto’s right arm banded around her, pressing her arms painfully against her ribcage. Ensnared, immobilised, it took all her strength to draw breath.
Ianto must have sensed the fight ebbing from her. He relaxed his hold slightly. She made a supreme effort, clamped her jaw down, and sank her teeth into the hand Ianto had rammed into her mouth.
He reacted by jamming his fist even further down her throat. Her teeth cracked. She retched. The world around her darkened, blotting out the sky.
Ianto lifted her off her feet. She heard subdued laughter and sensed another presence. Someone grabbed her ankles, lifting her horizontally. She looked up, saw the bricks of the archway, and knew she was being carried back into the court.
She tried to cry out, but the only sound she managed was muffled. She was aware of being carried downwards. The mixed aromas of kippers, smoke, tobacco, and rotting food filled the air. Pigswill?
Was she in Iestyn and Jenny Swine’s house?
She picked up whispered snatches of conversation.
‘The women are all in the Parry’s …’
‘… no one will come …’
‘… keep her quiet …’
‘… not a sound …’
Ianto moved his fist from her mouth. She gasped. Before she had time to scream he clamped his fingers over her lips and nose, preventing her from drawing a second breath. Her legs swung free. He clasped her tightly, the back of her head to his chest. He was holding her so close, his belt buckle dug painfully into the base of her spine.
Her eyes widened in terror when Mervyn Paskey moved in front of both of them. His tongue darted from his mouth like a lizard’s, moistening his lips. He leered. Saliva dribbled down his chin as he grabbed her breast, and squeezed it through the bodice of black crepe.
She kicked, hammering her heels into the front of Ianto’s shins.
‘Bitch!’ Ianto growled.
Mervyn pulled a steel blade from his boot. He inserted the point in the high necked collar of her dress and sliced downwards.
Anna’s mouth filled with the iron taste of blood as she bit down again with every ounce of strength.
‘Cow!’
A deafening ringing resounded in her ears. Her head snapped back. She heard her bones crack.
The world went black.
Parrys’ House, court off John Street
Georgetown, Merthyr, June 1870
‘Anna’s been gone a while, Betty, shouldn’t someone check she’s all right?’ Jenny asked.
Betty carried on spreading margarine on the scones Jenny had baked for the wake. ‘The poor girl hasn’t had a minute to herself since Mary died.’
‘I’ll go along with that,’ Maggie said. ‘What, between finishing off the washing Mary had taken in and looking after the boys. Alf Mahoney wasn’t much help. I understand why Mr Edwards moved him in with the Parrys,’ she added, remembering Edward Edwards was Betty’s brother-in-law. ‘The children needed someone around in case the Paskeys came looking for Richard but, when all’s said and done, Alf’s a man. We all know how useless they are inside the house. Only good for filling their faces and putting their feet up on chairs. When I spoke to Anna this morning she was that worried about Richard and not being able to see him …’
‘I think it’s worth checking on her,’ Jenny interrupted. ‘She looked peaky when she went out. I’ll go if you don’t want to, Betty.’
‘Give her a few more minutes,’ Betty pleaded.
‘I’ll see to her. If she doesn’t want company I’ll leave her be.’ Maggie knew if Jenny went, she’d hover around Anna whether the girl wanted her to or not. She set down the knife she’d been using to cut slices of bara brith, wiped her hands in her overall, squeezed past the women gossiping in the doorway, and walked up the steps.
She stood at the top. The court was empty. The only noise the conversation coming from the house behind her. She saw the buckets under the pump, looked to the archway and called, ‘Anna?’ When there was no reply she shouted again. ‘Anna?’
Despite the rain, the front doors of the houses were open, but she knew no one was home because all the men who weren’t working were at the funeral and all the women in the Parrys.
She repeated, ‘Anna?’ and walked to the archway. The street outside was deserted. She walked few steps to the right and looked up and down. After shouting ‘Anna’ one final time as loudly as she could she headed back to the court.
She felt something beneath her boot. It was the head of one of the marguerites she’d helped weave into the wreath for Mary Parry’s coffin. She picked it up. Beneath it was a fine muslin handkerchief. It had real lace trimming. She recognised it. Mary Parry had kept it in her pocket and referred to it as her most precious possession. The last time she’d seen it, Anna had folded a lock of her mother’s hair into it. She opened it. The grey lock, tied with a tiny scrap of red ribbon was inside.
Heart pounding, she cried, ‘Anna!’ before picking up her skirts putting her head down and running. She stopped, suddenly realising that any one of the younger women would reach the cemetery and Edward Edwards before her, even allowing for the time it would take her to return to the Parrys.
She turned and charged back as quickly as she could, sensing that Anna’s life depended on it.
St Tydfil’s Cemetery
Merthyr, June 1870
/> Morgan and Owen had been accorded the position of chief mourners. Conscious of the gravity of the occasion they stood, side by side at the head of the grave, manfully holding back their tears. Edward, Peter, Glyn, and Alf had ranged themselves behind the boys, facing the sea of men who’d crowded into the cemetery. Hundreds stood, heads bowed, hats and caps removed. The only sound was the sonorous voice of the minister. He crouched down, picked up a clump of sodden clay, broke it one handed, and dropped the clods on the coffin. They fell with loud, dull thuds.
‘Ashes to ashes … dust to dust …’
Glyn recalled his childhood. Mary Parry – Williams, as she’d been then – was the stunning girl next door who’d been courted by every bachelor in their neighbourhood. He, along with his entire family, had been delighted when his eldest brother Tom, had won her. But Tom and Mary’s joy had been short lived. Days after their marriage Tom was killed ‘by the iron’.
Nineteen years later he could still taste the raw grief and feel the effect of Tom’s death on his parents and Mary. Within a year both his parents had joined Tom in the family grave. Mary married Richard Parry two years after she’d been widowed, but something had gone from her for ever. The brightness of her smile. A lilt in her voice. Her zest for life. Richard Parry had married a shadow of the girl she’d been.
He’d assumed Richard engineered the move to Treforest in an attempt to help Mary forget Tom. He doubted Richard’s ploy had been successful. Despite the death of both her parents within a year of her and Richard moving away, Mary had seized Edward’s offer to help her and her children return to Merthyr after Richard had been killed.
He looked into Mary’s grave. Mary had married Tom on her sixteenth birthday, which made her thirty-five. He was thirty-one and the last time he’d seen Mary, at Christmas, he’d commented to Betty that Mary looked fifty.
He wondered if there was a grave waiting for him in his near future. Would it be in Merthyr, or in Russia? The thought was sobering. There was so much more living he wanted to do. And, there was Betty. It wasn’t as though he had anything to complain about. His wife never openly nagged or grumbled at his absences. She was an excellent housekeeper, kept the Inn’s public rooms as clean as possible given the human traffic that wandered in and out of the building. She supervised the cooking of fine meals, welcomed him every time he returned from his travels and said she was looking forward to spending more time with him in Russia. But he couldn’t help feeling it wasn’t what was said, more what was left unsaid between them.
The Dream Begins Page 1
