The Circassian. "Wrong Side" Read online



  The Circassian

  Bob Bidecant

  Copyright © 2015. Bob King.

  Please do not read this story if strong sexual situations, extreme violence, drugs and explicit language offends you.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, Places, Characters and incidents are products of the Authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or translated, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or means without the prior written consent of the publisher.

  Dedicated to my family.

  Part One. Circassia. 1864.

  1.1

  1.2

  1.3

  1.4

  1.5

  1.6

  1.7

  1.8

  1.9

  1.10

  1.11

  1.12

  1.13

  Part Two. South Africa. January 1888.

  2.1

  2.2

  2.3

  2.4

  2.5

  2.6

  2.7

  2.8

  2.9

  2.10

  2.11

  2.12

  2.13

  Part Three. Cape Town. March 1888.

  3.1

  3.2

  3.3

  3.4

  3.5

  3.6

  3.7

  3.8

  3.9

  Part Four. London. June. 1888.

  4.1

  4.2

  4.3

  4.4

  4.5

  4.6

  4.7

  4.8

  4.9

  4.10

  Part Five. London.July.1888.

  5.1

  5.2

  5.3

  5.4

  5.5

  5.6

  5.7

  5.8

  5.9

  Part Six. London. August. 1888.

  6.1

  6.2

  6.3

  6.4

  6.5

  6.6

  6.7

  6.8

  6.9

  6.10

  6.11

  6.12

  Part Seven. London. September 1888.

  7.1

  7.2

  7.3

  7.4

  7.5

  7.6

  7.7

  7.8

  7.9

  7.10

  7.11

  7.12

  7.13

  7.14

  E.1

  E.2

  E.3

  E.4

  E.5

  Part One. Circassia. 1864.

  (Two months before the end of the war.)

  1.1

  ‘Well that makes a perfect day, ants all over me, I’m starving hungry, I need a shit, I’ve had a hard on all day and now it’s started fucking raining. What else can go wrong?’ Nikolay complained.

  ‘My boot up your arse if you don’t shut up and stop complaining, it could be worse you could be back in prison.’ whispered Alexi.

  ‘Yes Sergeant.’ Nikolay grumbled as he scratched his legs through the rough Russian army issue khaki trousers. The small amount of light that had bothered turning up that morning gave up and slinked away from the bullying dark storm clouds like a beaten dog with its tail between its legs. Nikolay pulled his canvas poncho out from his pack and covered his body. The rain couldn’t get to them through the thick trees above them; instead, it sneaked along the branches and dropped on them annoyingly from above. Nikolay felt a damp patch underneath him as a puddle formed in the shallow earth that he chosen to hide himself in. He grumbled as he rolled out onto a higher piece of ground next to it, broken twigs poking into his legs. He hated being uncomfortable, he hated being hungry and he hated being wet even more.

  Alexi glanced over at him, enjoying his discomfort. Nikolay was not a soldier; he was a country boy who had spent more time in prison than out since he had been conscripted.

  ‘Don’t lie in holes when it’s raining you idiot. And shut up!’ Alexi growled through clenched teeth.

  ‘Fuck off,’ replied Nikolay.

  ‘Fuck off, “Sergeant”.’ Alexi corrected him.

  They had had been lying in the damp forest since before dawn, sent to watch the village. The morning had been boring and they took turns to sleep.

  ‘Nikolay, wake up.’ Alexi tapped his arm. Nikolay pulled his poncho off and rolled over next to him.

  ‘What?’ he whispered.

  ‘Three horsemen just rode into the village, look.’ Alexi passed him the field glasses and Nikolay studied the men.

  ‘Dressed like rebels and carrying rifles,’ Nikolay confirmed. ‘They don’t even bother hiding the fact. Finally we can get some action, I am so fucking bored.’ He passed the glasses back to Alexi.

  ‘They think this location is so safe they don’t need to hide themselves. Trofim get your arse back to the squadron and tell Petrovich that we can confirm this village feeds rebels.’

  ‘I’ll go.’ said Nikolay. He was hungry and there was food back at the main camp. He knew Alexi kept his men hungry when an attack was imminent. It made his troops angry and more eager to get the job done so they could be fed. That’s how he wanted them

  ‘I said Trofim will go, I’m not having you going back to the squadron with a hard on, they might think we are all queer.’

  ‘Then bring me some food back or I’m going to eat that in a minute.’ Said Nikolay. He pointed to the pack of poisoned meat they had brought with them to kill the dogs. Alexi looked at Trofim and silently mouthed ‘No food.’ Trofim nodded and left. He returned four hours later with twenty-five more men; they spread out along the edge of the forest. He handed Nikolay and Alexi some bread.

  ‘Is that it?’ complained Nikolay.

  ‘Major Petrovich said we can go in at dusk, he will join us later.’ Trofim told Alexi. For the rest of the day more of the squadron quietly joined them appearing in twos and threes all during the day. Nikolay scanned each cottage in the small village carefully; there in the doorway of the last one a woman was standing shaking her hair loose. He refocused the binoculars and studied her. She was beautiful, he sighed.

  ‘Damn if we weren’t at war with them I would take one home, I’m sure one would make a fine wife.’ He said.

  ‘Until you upset them, then they will cut your balls off while you sleep, they are all fucking gypsies.’ Alexi hated all Circassians. Nikolay grunted and continued watching the woman.

  Circassia had been at war with Russia for one hundred years. Circassian boys learnt to ride horses as soon as they could walk; they fought in small bands, moving around the mountainous areas that filled the small country. They attacked without warning and then slipped away into the dense forests; the terrain gave them a massive advantage over the Russians. The Russian empire was expanding rapidly. It needed to control the Black sea ports and Circassia stood in the way. The new Tsar was determined to end the war quickly. He sanctioned the formation of special units to find the villages that fed and sheltered the rebels and destroy them. Units made up of men who came from a similar environment in Russia and could survive in the mountains for months at a time. With wars going on against Russia elsewhere, there were not enough regular troops to waste so the military prison inmates who could handle the harsh conditions were released and sent to Circassia. They were not soldiers they were murderers in uniforms. The officers leading them were a mix of drunks or cowards, reassigned from front line duty. Officially, the outside
world was told that Russian troops rounded up villages that harboured or fed rebels and offered them the chance to leave Circassia unharmed and go to live in Turkey. Unofficially if armed rebels were suspected of being present in the village then the soldiers would rush it at night killing all. The squadron would hide nearby until dark and then rush into every small house at the same time. When they did murder, plunder and rape they did not leave any witnesses alive to tell the tale. They had only one function, to go from village to village spreading terror across Circassia. Villagers that refused to leave were murdered and many of the ones that left for Turkey starved to death in the refugee camps by the Black Sea, waiting months for ships to arrive to take them to safety.

  1.2

  Rebecca had been baking loaves all morning to sell at the local market. The heat from the stove had put a flush in her pretty cheeks and she opened her cottage door to let the strong breeze from the mountains cool her face. Stood in the doorway for several moments with her eyes shut enjoying the feeling, she listened to the sounds of her neighbours. She heard old women laughing as they washed clothes in the small stream that ran behind the houses and her two sons arguing noisily outside, but something was missing. There were no birds singing today. She looked along the twenty-two small stone and thatch single room cottages that constituted the tiny hamlet and then carefully scanned the fields in front of her cottage for her husband Uri. Fields cut from the thick forest by her ancestors hundreds of years before. Behind the fields were two mountains that changed colour during the course of the year, green in summer, golden brown in autumn and now black in the shadow of the distant dark rain clouds. Although her cottage was the furthest from the forest, she could always clearly hear the birds singing. Today the forest was still. An old man pushing a cart full of straw called out in greeting as he passed.

  ‘Looks like a bad storm coming Rebecca best keep your windows shut tonight.’

  ‘I will.’ she replied, smiling.

  Rebecca had a pretty face, retaining features that gave her a childish appearance belying her twenty-six years. Thick eyebrows sat slightly arched over her green eyes and long straight nose in perfect proportions. Her mouth turning slightly down at the corners made her face look sad when she was not smiling, but when she did smile she showed off a straight set of teeth only blemished by one crooked incisor that had been pushed out by another behind it. Although her face looked young, her body could never be described as childish. She had a small waist with a prominent round backside and breasts slightly too large for her body. Untying her head band she pushed her raven black hair back from her face with both hands and then let it fall naturally She held her head back and shook her long straight hair, so long it reached her backside.

  Then she shuddered, a feeling that she was being watched engulfed her and she shivered despite the heat. She looked around the village and then into the distance but could not see anybody looking at her. She put the thought out of her mind and stepped out onto the dusty track they called a street. Her two young twin sons were playing and she silently crept up behind them. She stood watching as they encouraged small insects that they found to race each other. Mikael named after Rebecca’s father and almost six raised an arm in glee as his unwilling bug crossed the winning line helped on with more than a few flicks of his finger. The boys were blessed with Rebecca’s raven black hair and captivating green eyes. Both blessed with an impish face that could guarantee free sweets from the old women of the village, as long as they grudgingly put up with the kisses they had to accept in exchange. Jaak, his twin dropped his shoulders and looked like he was about to cry. Named after Uri’s father, Rebecca picked him up and gave him a cuddle.

  ‘Mikael cheats.’ he pouted as he buried his face into her bosom. She lifted his face up to speak to him and as he did, she planted a big kiss on his forehead. Identical to his brother only Rebecca could tell them apart, they had inherited all of her features. He too regularly had to run the gauntlet of kisses from every woman in the village who called herself his aunt.

  ‘You will win tomorrow.’ she whispered in his ear as she bit it gently to make him giggle. It was a sound she could listen to all day, unknown to her it was the last time anybody would hear him make that happy sound. Tomorrow was the end of the month and she and her husband had to wake up before dawn to reach the market early. Even with the protection of Uri, she never enjoyed the monthly trip through the forest and across the river, but that was the only way to get to the market where they sold their wares and bought their needs. A dirt track lead directly through the village, stone cottages on both sides of it, then straight through a mile of forest until it reached the river. The forest scared her and she never walked near it alone, fearing the shrubbery that had grown back to a few yards of the track. The track was a dried up stream that originally ran from the mountains into the river, but it had been dry since a mudslide had blocked the source before she was born. Rebecca always gripped Uri’s arm tightly each time they travelled through it, the horse carefully working its way between the dense greenery on either side, her head and shoulders covered with a shawl. Uri laughed at her fears.

  ‘It is an old wives tale,’ he reassured her many times. ‘Wild birds will not fly into your hair.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re correct dear.’ She always replied, still keeping the shawl over her head until they were clear of the forest. Then she quickly replaced it as they reached the second part of the trip that frightened her, the river. With her eyes closed, she gripped Uri’s arm even tighter as the cart rumbled across the old wooden bridge that spanned the white water below. She had found the courage to open them once and look through the gaps of the wooden slats of the bridge at the rushing torrent of water below. She shut them again quickly wishing the wood were much thicker, the only thing between her and the angry river. On the trip home in the evening, she was always exhausted and fell asleep in the back of the cart within minutes of leaving the market, hidden under her shawl between the provisions they had bought for the month.

  Today she looked into the distance and saw her husband walking home from his fields, he was talking with a neighbour and they were laughing together about something. She watched as he threw a stick for their two large dogs. Anatolian Wolfhounds, brought back to the village from Turkey by Uri’s father, they guarded the goats during the day, leaving Uri free to work on their vegetables and crops. Both dogs raced after the stick barking. Work done and time to go home and eat, he tapped one goat that was lingering behind the flock to catch up. He allowed the dogs freedom to run around every evening, stretching their muscles and sniffing out old and new things. Taller than Uri when they stood on their hind legs, front paws on his shoulders trying to lick his face. He had been knocked over on frequent occasions as they both vied for his attention. Their affection and loyalty only matched by their fearless nature. Bounding across the short grass the huge dogs reached the stick at the same time, jostling each other to get there first, but then they both stopped, ignoring the stick, a new smell had caught their attention.

  Both dogs raced towards the edge of the forest unseen by Uri who was engrossed in the story that his neighbour was telling him; he did not see them stop and eat something. When he did glance in the direction of the dogs he saw they were both staring towards the forest. He whistled to them to come back, it was getting dark and starting to rain. He knew if they disappeared into the forest chasing something they would not be back for hours. They both turned their heads towards him as he whistled and one began throwing up as he tried to dislodge something from his throat, Uri barely glanced at them, they both ate too quickly, each one trying to eat more than the other, and then nearly choking afterwards. His friend continued his story and Uri slapped his thigh laughing again. Rebecca smiled, she could not hear her husband but she knew from the movements of his body he was laughing, even in silence she joined in too as she always did when he laughed, it was contagious and one of the reasons she had been attracted to him. Behind him, she saw
the sky was turning black and she could smell rain in the air. Uri picked up a new stick ready to throw but the dogs did not return to him, he scanned the whole area before him without seeing them. They must have chased something into the forest again. He whistled several more times but a lightning bolt speared into the top of the mountain behind them and almost immediately a roll of thunder drowned out any sound he made, the rain now gathering momentum.

  1.3

  As they had done many times before, Alexi and his men waited impatiently until the village was sleeping and the poison they left out had killed the dogs. Then they moved silently to wreak havoc on the innocent village. They entered the village silently, rain cascading from their already soaked clothing and hair. Alexi tapped each man on the shoulder and pointed to a door. Three men were positioned outside each cottage. Nikolay had been watching the village all day, especially Rebecca. He had begged Alexi to choose her cottage for him Alexi and Trofim, ordering others to enter the cottages where the rebels were sleeping. Finally, they stood before the last cottage; hands trembling with both excitement and fear, not knowing who or what was behind the door they were ready to break. Alexi looked back down the street; every man was in position waiting. He gave the command, a piercing whistle that could be heard for miles. Boots crashed the flimsy doors open and the soldiers with eyes accustomed to the dark, rushed into the cottages with guns and knives ready, giving the sleeping occupants no chance to defend themselves. Within seconds of the sound of the whistle, a thunder of shots rang out as the troops rushed into the cottages.

  Nikolay kicked the door hard, the wood splintering in several directions. Trofim pulled the cloth covering the lamp he carried and entered first. The lamp was on the end of a long stick to misdirect anybody who shot at them in the dark.

  Nobody shot at them, they were farmers, not soldiers, and they were all sleeping.

  Rebecca woke suddenly as the whistle blew. She sat up in bed at the same time as Uri, both blinded by the light shining in their eyes. A second burst of light came from the doorway as a deafening shot rang out, orange and blue sparks bursting from the end of the rifle. Uri sighed once and fell back onto the bed, a dark stain spreading out over his chest, the blood, black in the dark, the twins were shocked awake. Mikael screamed and poked his head out through a gap in the thin curtains that separated them from the main room. Jaak without knowing why also screamed then pushed his head out too. Alexi stepped inside with another torch and they watched black shadows dancing around the walls in time with the flickering torch flames like mad puppets. They looked at their father, wanting to run to him but not daring to move. They heard his rasping breathing, it sounded like him snoring. Then turning to gurgling as the blood filled his mouth and slowly choked him to death, their mother holding his head and rocking back and forwards not knowing what to do, crying out for help. Outside they heard women screaming, men shouting and many gunshots. They had never heard a gunshot before and their small bodies shook as each new one startled them repeatedly. Mikael covered his ears. Jaak did the same. The three soldiers ransacked the small room destroying everything they could not use. Alexi ripped the curtains apart and pushed the boys roughly from the bed, which he then upturned, looking for anything worth stealing. Red circles swirled before Mikael’s eyes; he felt a warm liquid on his legs as his bladder released urine. The red circles turned to black and he fainted, falling onto the floor and laying there like a small rag. Jaak remained motionless. Satisfied there was nobody else inside the room, Alexi lit the lamps in the cottage, throwing light onto the carnage as Nikolay and Trofim ripped apart the scant belongings searching for valuables, food and wine. The woman would be killed later after the men had relieved themselves, the children were young, and they were too hungry to bother with them now. Trofim found some food and he and Alexi sat at the table and started to eat. They found the bottles of wine stacked ready for the market and opened them too.

  Nikolay turned his attention to Rebecca; he had something else on his mind. He grabbed her hair and pulled her from her husband’s body pushing her face onto the table. She struggled but was not strong enough to resist him. Alexei took her left wrist without getting off his stool, Trofim reached across the table, and still eating with his other hand took her right wrist.

  ‘Why can’t you wait Nikolay, I am hungry.’ growled Alexi. Nikolay lifted her nightdress with his right hand pressing Rebecca’s face into the table with his left. Flicking three buttons, he pulled his penis out and tried to enter her. Rebecca had her legs closed tightly and Nikolay could not penetrate her. He pushed his left boot between her calves and stamped onto her feet hard. As she moved her feet away to avoid the pain, her legs opened enough for him to push his right leg between her and then he spread both of his legs wide apart forcing Rebecca’s legs to do the same. He slammed her head down twice onto the table breaking her nose and splitting her lips. Then guiding his penis with his right hand he forced it inside her dry vagina, feeling the outside folds of skin pulled inwards. He pulled back out and spat on his hands twice; using the liquid as lubrication, he wiped his hand around his penis and pushed it back into Rebecca, feeling less resistance this time. Rebecca cried softly, her tears mingled with the blood from her nose and she turned her once beautiful face towards her boys. Without speaking the team knew exactly what was expected of them, they had done this many times before. As Nikolay began to climax, Trofim looked at his companion across the table. Alexi shook his head.

  ‘You can go next, I‘m too hungry.’

  Trofim pushed the plate away and stood up. Nikolay sat down, held Rebecca’s arm with one hand, and began eating what was left on the plate. Trofim stepped behind Rebecca unbuttoning his flies and positioned himself to enter her. Rebecca had stopped struggling and accepted the inevitable, without lifting her head from the table; she looked towards Jaak and silently mouthed the words.

  ‘Take Mikael and run.’

  Jaak was too terrified to move, Mikael still lying unconscious where he fell. As Trofim finished and stepped away from Rebecca Alexi sat back in his chair and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He lifted the wine bottle and let it pour down his throat gulping three times before putting it back on the table. He belched loudly, picked a piece of meat from his teeth and spat it on the floor. Then he slowly stood up and stepped behind Rebecca.

  Rebecca was sobbing, her eyes never leaving Jaak’s eyes. She kept repeating silently only one word repeatedly to him.

  ‘Run.’ Trofim looked around for more food. As he moved towards the twins, Rebecca fearing for her boys tried frantically to lift herself from the table, with only Nikolay holding her right wrist, her left hand was now free and she gripped the side of the table and shook her body trying to raise herself. Alexi tried to hold her still as his penis slipped out of her. Getting angrier, he leant forward and slapped her several times on the back of the head so hard she nearly passed out.

  ‘Keep still you bitch.’ Alexi shouted at her in Circassian. Hearing the Russian speak in her own tongue she tried to move her head to look at him.

  ‘Please, please don’t hurt my boys.’ She pleaded.

  She turned her head towards the boys again, her whispers turning to screams, begging her boys to run.

  Nikolay slapped her hard on the side of the head twice.

  Rebecca was completely hysterical, her ears were ringing from the blows but she continued to struggle, forcing his penis out for the second time. She knew when the last soldier was finished they would all be killed. Nikolay, still holding her arm with one hand, put his food down and hit her several times with his fist clenched, each time her face forced into the table, more blood pouring from her nose and lips. Alexi felt himself losing his erection; he used his right hand to guide his penis back into her. His left hand had Rebecca’s hair pulled back so hard her whole head lifted off the table. Trofim saw something behind Jaak and moved closer towards him to get a better look. Jaak did not see him; his eyes never left those of his mother. Just as Alexi fel
t his penis enter Rebecca, she twisted herself again and he slipped out.

  In a blind rage, he pulled her hair back harder and with one movement, his knife sliced through her throat. Nikolay released his grasp on her as he fell backwards from the stool onto the floor. He had never seen Alexi so angry before.

  ‘Fuck Alexi you almost cut me in the face you idiot.’ He screamed angrily.

  Jaak’s entire body became numb. Rebecca never took her gaze away from Jaak as the blood poured from her throat in waves onto the table. He watched the life slowly fade from her eyes and her body limply rest on the table. He looked at the soldier still inside her, thrusting his hips trying to climax, racing to finish before her blood trickling across the table reached him and stained his uniform. Jaak’s six-year-old mind still could not comprehend what had happened. He stood motionless as the soldier finished, buttoned himself up and walked angrily towards him. Alexi ripped down the curtains and threw them aside. Jaak looked up into the face of the man who had murdered his mother. The soldier took out his knife and held it to Jaak’s throat, pushing it hard enough to draw a trickle of blood. Jaak stared impassively back into his Alexi’s eyes, he was in total shock. The soldier had never seen a boy so young act like this, the look in the child’s eyes unnerved him.

  ‘Nikolay look, I’ve got my knife to his throat but he shows no fear.’ Nikolay replied.

  ‘He is probably an imbecile. It’s all the interbreeding these fuckers do. His mother is probably his sister too. Put him out of his misery, he gives me the creeps.’

  1.4

  Major Boris Petrovich arrived in the village late. He had travelled a long way from the main command post and rode directly into the village. He stopped and dismounted his horse, handing the reins to a young soldier. He looked down at the dead bodies of three adult Circassian males. Their bodies had been dragged from the cottages and left in the middle of the dirt track.

  Soldiers were still dragging bodies out, the line increased to nineteen adult men.

  ‘They look more like farmers than rebels. Were they offered the chance to surrender?’

  ‘Yes Sir, we came to offer terms but they opened fire on us before we could talk.’ the corporal lied, as he had been instructed to. Boris shook his head and turned to the man who had arrived with him.

  ‘Come on Abraham let’s check the houses.’

  Boris entered each dwelling in the village in turn, noting what had happened, he spoke slowly as his aide and medic Abraham recorded what he said. They stepped into Rebecca’s home last. Abraham saw the dead man on the bed. He looked at the woman with her throat cut still lying across the table, her nightdress lifted and her naked buttocks bruised. Her face blackened from the beating she had endured, she had obviously been raped.

  He felt sick.

  When Boris entered the room, all he saw was the knife at the boy’s throat and the soldier ready to use it.

  He took two steps, drawing his pistol as he did and pushed it hard against the back of Alexi’s head.

  ‘Cut that boy and I will pull the fucking trigger.’ Alexi shrugged slowly, he re sheathed his knife and then lifted his hands up to show they were empty.

  ‘Now regroup outside with the other murdering misfits, go on all of you and take the man’s body out with you, now!’As he felt the gun withdrawn from his head Alexi lowered his arms then turned and walked towards the open door. He looked back over his shoulder at the Major as he reached it, then he shoulder barged Abraham hard as he passed him and spat on his boot.

  ‘Get out of my way you Jewish cunt.’

  Nikolay and Trofim carried the body of Uri outside. Abraham closed the door behind them after they left. Boris placed his revolver back into its holster, limped to a stool and sat down. His leg hurt today. He had been at the high command all day and it had been a long ride back. His commander was furious with his last report. He limped through the tall building that housed the chief of staff for all troops in Circassia with Abraham. He felt them stare at him as he walked through their midst. They stood dressed in fine blue, green or red tunics, Boris dressed in the same drab beige colours as his men, the colour chosen to blend in with the scenery of Circassia. He felt rather than heard the sarcastic comments regarding the colour. The units he commanded were not regarded by the old school Russian officers as real soldiers and he knew it, but someone had chosen well and when Circassian riflemen were in the area, a brightly coloured tunic was an invitation to be shot. Boris knew he was in for a hard time. He had tried on numerous occasions to inform his high command of the atrocities that were being committed during the many raids and had reported his junior officers several times for allowing it to go on. But, as before he stood in front of his commander’s desk and watched him take all of his reports and throw them in the rubbish bin. Now he believed they knew about it and not only were they unwilling to stop it but actually encouraging it. They turned a blind eye as long as the villagers were being terrified, forcing them no option but to migrate from the Circassian settlements to Turkey where they have been promised sanctuary. The only man in the squadron he trusted and liked was his medic Abraham Zlotin, a Russian Jew, forcibly removed from his parents at the age of ten and conscripted against his will to serve fifteen years in the Army. Refusing to bear arms or denounce his faith, he had proven his bravery time and again during the fighting and gained the respect and friendship of Boris. Abraham had never fired a shot in anger but when he lay wounded, it was Abraham that crawled out to him and dragged him back to safety, risking his own life to save Boris. When Boris finally recovered, and was reposted to Circassia he made sure Abraham was transferred with him.

  Abraham lifted Rebecca’s body from the table and laid her on the bed. He covered her nakedness, and then carefully checked the children, speaking gently to them in Circassian, a language he had picked up during the years he had been serving there. The two boys, unable to stop shaking, sat with their eyes transfixed on the officer. Boris sat at the corner of the table drinking the wine that had been made ready for the market. Mikael sat on the edge of the bed with his arm around Jaak. Boris felt a lump in his throat as he saw the tenderness they had for each other. Although identical in stature, Mikael had always been the dominant brother; Jaak was the first to cry when they argued. He looked at their small beautiful faces and the terror in their eyes. They were truly terrified of him.

  A great sadness came over him. For as long as he could remember, he had always been proud of being a soldier. He enjoyed the look of admiration from others when he returned home and walked with his wife. He had been a good leader and had earned the trust and respect of his former troops. But that was before he was reassigned to this unit of murderers and child killers. He broke some bread and leaned forward to give a piece to Mikael. Both Jaak and Mikael began sobbing; he looked at their bodies shake with fear and drew back to the table. He had seen the fear in men’s eyes before he killed them in battle many times, but seeing two small children so frightened of him triggered despondency within him. It was at exactly that moment that he decided that he had enough of the endless wars. The twins were staring at his jacket; he had the same uniform on as the soldiers that had murdered their parents. Calling Abraham to follow his example he removed his jacket and dropped it onto a stool. As he looked at the twins, he thought about his own sons.

  ‘They remind me of my boys.’ Boris said suddenly. Abraham was surprised; Boris was not a great talker.

  ‘I didn’t know you had young children.’ he replied.

  Boris continued,

  ‘They are not young, both already grown up with their own families. I haven’t seen them much since their mother passed away but when I think about them, I never see them as adults. I still remember them as young and carefree children, running around without a worry in the world. Now I have grandchildren the same age as these two.’ He looked at the twins and sighed.

  ‘These two boys have just had their whole future taken away from them by those three fucking an
imals, just because they were hungry and horny. How can I look my sons or grandsons in the eyes anymore? They would be ashamed of me if they found out what was really going on in this country.’ The twins were the only ones left in the whole village; there was no one else alive. Outside the soldiers were getting noisy on vodka they had brought with them and the wine they found. Abraham had never heard Boris speak that way before; he placed his uniform jacket on the back of a stool and sat down. Looking at Boris’s sadness, he said quietly.

  ‘You have not committed these crimes. I know you are a good man, your family have nothing to be ashamed of.’ Boris replied.

  ‘I have not stopped it, which makes me as guilty as they are.’

  ‘No Sir, you are not like them,’ Abraham whispered. ‘I would not have crawled through a battlefield to rescue you if you were like them.’

  ‘Abraham, they will kill these two boys as soon as we turn our backs, you know that. Do you think if I save these two children God will forgive me for all the bad things I have done in the past.’

  ‘Yes of course, Sir.’

  Boris sat silently for several minutes nodding his head. Abraham had seen him do this before; he knew he was making a decision. Finally, he cleared his throat and then said quietly.

  ‘Abraham I am sorry I brought you to this hell. It is my fault that you are here, and it’s my responsibility to make sure you get back to your family.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Abraham.

  Boris knew that the men he commanded would shoot him and Abrahams in the back and cut their throats as quickly as they would kill the boys.

  ‘Someone back at High Command has leaked the information to the troops that I have filed reports about them, and that you have signed as a witness. Time has run out for us my friend, I want you to get out of Circassia, this is the closest to the border of Georgia we have been since we arrived here, it is only three days hard walking East from here and it’s mostly forest.’

  ‘And what about you?’ Abraham asked, sincerely concerned for Boris.

  ‘You saw my injuries Abraham; you know I could not walk out of here.’ Abraham knew it was true. Boris’s leg should have been amputated but Boris had threatened to shoot the surgeon if he did. The bits of his leg were sewn back together but he could not walk more than a few yards anymore. He added,

  ‘Anyway I am an officer, they cannot touch me.’ Abraham knew that part was a lie.

  ‘And the boys?’ he asked.

  ‘Take them with you, there are refugees everywhere travelling to the Black Sea. Once you are clear of here, find a family that’s travelling to Turkey and leave the boys with them.’ Abraham thought for a few minutes and then admitted quietly.

  ‘I have thought about deserting many times.’ Boris was surprised he knew Abraham was an honourable man. Abraham continued.

  ‘But my family in Minsk would suffer if I did. They would have been punished and I couldn’t let that happen.’ Boris smiled.

  ‘Is that all that is stopping you? I can guarantee that you won’t be a deserter. You will be dead. Your wife will receive a widow’s service payment then she can join you. Jew or not the Russian army always honours its payment to widows and believe me there are too many of them to check the facts properly.’

  Boris drank his wine slowly as he let what he said sink in. Then he continued.

  ‘I have to send a report that the village is secure in Russian hands to the senior commander today,’ Boris hesitated. He looked at the boys again, ‘If you agree then I will report to them that you were killed in the fighting here and buried in the forest, your family will be free to leave Russia without persecution.’ He sat back in the chair and waited for a response from Abraham.

  Abraham sat, stunned by the words. He thought about his wife and parents and then turned and looked at the two boys sitting together on their small bed holding each other. One boy was quietly crying, his lips trembling as he looked at the body of the mother, the other emotionless, staring at Boris. Abraham then made the biggest decision of his life. He had also had enough of the brutality he watched daily.

  ‘Yes.’ he said simply.

  They sat and drank a wine together and Boris took out his notebook and pen. He sat writing for several minutes and then turning the paper around for Abraham to read, picked up his glass and drank another wine.

  ‘Thank you Sir.’ whispered Abraham slightly breathless as he realised the enormity of their actions. Boris placed the paper in an envelope, sealed it and signed the back. He pushed the envelope to the middle of the table and left it there, waiting for the remainder of the troops to get too drunk to know or care who was coming or going. After an hour Boris stood, went outside and called his runner, a young boy he knew would carry out his orders. He instructed him to take the papers back to the main battalion several miles back in the mountains and then return with confirmation it had been read by the commanding officer there. He stepped back into the cottage and shut the door behind him.

  ‘No turning back now, my friend, you are officially dead.’

  ‘No turning back.’ Abraham repeated and sat down scared.

  Boris opened the door quietly and stepped outside for the fifth time that evening. He whispered as he came back into the cottage.

  ‘Time to go, they are all sleeping.’ Abraham stood up and filled half of his Army bag with food then put some clothes belonging to the father inside, it would be safer to stay in uniform until he had crossed the river. He held his hand out to Boris who pushed it away, stood up and hugged him, the huge bear of an officer crushing his thin body. Abraham threw the bag over his shoulder and then picked up the two boys, one in each arm and disappeared into the darkness. The rain was slowing to a drizzle as he skirted completely around the village towards the river. Boris sat at the table and continued drinking, quietly humming his favourite song. He coughed violently and spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor. His tuberculosis was getting worse. He knew he had only months left. It wasn’t how he wanted to die. As dawn broke, he heard a knock on the door. The runner entered and handed him an envelope. He opened it and read the confirmation of his report signed by the commanding officer. He motioned the runner to leave and poured another wine. Outside he heard the troops waking. Boris raised his glass towards the still body of Rebecca in a toast and said.

  ‘I have no idea where you and your husband have gone, or where I am going soon but I know Abraham is the best man I have ever met and if anybody will try to keep your boys safe it will be him.’ He stood up, blew out the lamps sat back down facing the door and fired one shot from his pistol.

  Nikolay was urinating against a wall when he heard the shot. He automatically jumped back and cursed as he peed over his boots; he turned and rushed to the cottage then waited outside the door until the others joined him. Pushing open the door with his rifle Nikolay looked cautiously inside. Trofim arrived and together they slowly stepped into the dark room. Boris sat with a glass of wine in his left hand and his service pistol in his right. He watched Nikolay enter but waited until Trofim was also completely inside too. He shot Nikolay first, directly through the chest and without lowering the gun moved his hand to the right and shot Trofim in the heart. Nikolay staggered backwards but managed to raise his rifle. Boris shot him again, this time in the face. As Nikolay collapsed to the floor Boris lifted his glass and toasted Rebecca’s body.

  ‘Now that has made me feel much better,’ he said. He lifted the glass to his lips as Alexi burst into the room and fired a shot from his rifle directly at Boris.

  Boris was dead before his hand fell down onto the table, the glass rocked twice without spilling. Alexi looked at the bodies of Nikolay and Trofim.

  ‘Fuck.’ He said. He would miss them. He took two more steps further into the room looking around. There was nobody else there. Leaning across Boris he removed the glass from his hand and drank the contents. He went through all their pockets. He found a small amount of cash and a picture of Nicolay’s wife
, which he threw on the floor. He took their rifles and ammunition outside and then returned for the wine. Then he picked up the half full wine bottle from the table, swallowed some more then took the gun and wallet from Boris. Turning towards the door he spat on him and said.

  ‘Good fucking riddance, no one will mourn you.’ Alexi then lit a torch and threw it onto the bed, he waited a few minutes until he was sure the fire would spread and then left the cottage and shut the door, with the bodies of Nikolay and Trofim still inside. The troops left the village. They left the bodies in the street as a warning to other villages and then set every cottage ablaze.

  Everyone and everything the twins knew and loved in their short life was gone.