Dan Smith - The Child Thief

I had been a supporter of the changes and I had embraced the revolution when it came. I had even seen the failings of the officers who drove us into a futile war, but I had never condoned their slaughter at the hands of revolutionaries, and I still maintained my respect for any man who was prepared to fight for his beliefs. A hundred men like Dimitri turning on officers who gave their lives to their country and had earned the honour of dying in battle was not my view of justice. I felt both anger and sadness conflict in me when I thought this stranger in our village had come away from that nightmare, survived the sweep of the revolution and the civil war that followed only to be hanged by Dimitri and his cruel pack. I wondered if I had tried hard enough to stop them; if there was anything else I could have done to stop Dimitri.

Outside, I went back round the barn, dragging the sled upon which the children had been lying. The old black oak came into view, its naked arms reaching for the heavens, presenting its grotesque decoration still twisting and swaying. I had left him there to shame the people who had done this, I didn’t want to spare them their guilt, but now I knew I had to take him down. Such indignity was no end for a man who had once fought for his country. And whether he’d been tsarist or communist or anarchist it made no difference. They were just names that meant nothing.

Natalia was sitting at the table with the children when I pushed open the door. They all looked up at me, but I barely acknowledged them. I put down the items I’d brought from the barn, laid them with the man’s rifle, then collected one of the blankets Natalia had used to cover him. There was a fresh fire in the hearth now, the flames just beginning to pick up, and the blanket was tinged with its warmth.

Natalia watched me, unspeaking, but when I went back to the door, she stood. ‘Where are you going?’

I stopped with my fingers on the handle and spoke without turning round. ‘To cut him down.’

‘And then what?’

‘I’m going to bury him.’

‘The blanket…’

‘We can spare it.’

A chair scraped the floor behind me. ‘I’ll come with you,’ Petro said.

‘No. Viktor can help.’

‘ I can do it, Papa.’

‘I said, Viktor can help.’ I pulled open the door.

I took the sled to the centre of the village, where the tree stood unmoved by the death in its fingers. I pushed the tarpaulin to the end of the sled and moved the shovels and pick. I had a pocket knife which I handed to Viktor before stepping up onto the wall and wrapping my arms around the naked man’s legs.

Viktor didn’t need any instruction. As soon as he saw I had hold of the man, he went to the place where the rope had been secured, and began sawing at it with the knife. The rope was thick, but the knife was sharp, and within a few passes it was cut.

I took the weight of the body and struggled for a moment before Viktor came to help lift him down and onto the sled. With that done, I put the blanket over him. It was a good blanket, but this man deserved some respect in death.

‘Petro could have helped,’ Viktor said. ‘It would be easier with three.’

‘This isn’t for him. He’s not as strong as you.’

‘You might be surprised.’

‘I think I know my own son.’

Viktor opened his mouth as if he were about to speak. Perhaps he was thinking of telling me that no one knew Petro like he did. They were different, but they were twins and they had spent their lives together. In those terms, I was a relative stranger. But if those were the words on his lips, he kept them for another time.

Instead he just sighed, so I took up the reins. ‘Come on. Let’s get this done.’

I pulled the sled along the street towards the small church. Many feet had been on the road and the snow was trampled through to the hard mud beneath. The runners dragged on the dirt. I sensed a few faces at windows, and I swept my gaze around, letting each one of them see my eyes.

‘Look at them,’ I said. ‘Hiding away like frightened animals. Afraid of what they’ve done.’

‘You think it’s what they wanted to do? Do you think they meant to kill him?’

‘Who knows what they meant to do. But when people come together like that, it’s hard to control them. It’s hard for them to control them selves .’

‘They were so angry, Papa. It was frightening. I’ve never seen people like that. And when Dimitri came to the house, I thought…’

‘What, Viktor? What did you think?’

‘I thought you were going to shoot him.’

‘Maybe I should have.’

‘Could you?’

I looked at Viktor, the two of us walking side by side.

‘Maybe,’ I said. But I knew I could have. Were it not for Lara and for Natalia standing close by, I would have fired a bullet straight through Dimitri’s heart. I had no love or respect for my brother-in-law, and I had taken enough lives for one more to make little difference. The first time it had been as if someone had shaved away a tiny piece of my soul, but so many pieces had gone now that I sometimes lay awake at night and wondered if there was any of it left.

Viktor continued to watch me. When he spoke, his breath washed around his face and drifted back behind us. ‘You fought in the army.’

‘I fought in many armies.’

‘You don’t talk about it. How old were you?’

‘The same as everyone else,’ I said. ‘I was conscripted when I was twenty.’

And it was as a new soldier in Moscow that I met Natalia. So young and beautiful and full of hope. And she’d given me two sons before I was marched to war for the first time.

‘You must have seen some things.’

‘I’ve seen many things, Viktor. Many bad things. Soldiers can do terrible things, but this? Today?’ I shook my head. ‘Today is the worst I’ve seen. Proud people falling into shame.’

‘I think I understand why they did it though. Why they were afraid.’

I took a deep breath and looked at him. ‘Me too.’ And that made it so much worse.

The digging was harder the second time. The ground was a little softer, but we were tired from the work that morning, and we were drained by what had happened. The grave was shallower than it should have been, but we laid the corpse with its bulging glassy eyes and we put the blanket over his face before piling the cold dirt onto him. The pitiless thump of shovels full of earth fell heavy on him.

No one else came. No words were said.

We settled the soil, flattening it with the backs of our shovels, and we threw the tools onto the sled before dragging it home.

We were exhausted when we finally sat at the table and Natalia put hot food in front of us. Soup made from beets and what was left of the meat from yesterday’s rabbit. It felt good and warm.

When we had eaten, I asked Lara to bring the satchel from the corner of the room, and I opened the flap, taking out the contents and laying them on the rough surface of the table. I unwrapped the medal from around the flat tin and held it up for them to look at. I pinched the end of the ribbon between finger and thumb, letting the cross twist and turn until it reminded me of the hanging body, then I laid it down on the table. The orange and black ribbon was striking against the dark wood of the table. The white cross was edged with gold and the colourful depiction in the circle at the centre of it was still vibrant.

‘What is it, Papa? It’s pretty.’ Lara leaned across the table for a better look.

I pushed it towards her so she could touch it. She picked it up and hung it around her neck, letting the medal hang down her chest. She stood so we could see how it looked on her.

‘It’s the Order of St George,’ I said. ‘Awarded only to officers, and only for exceptional bravery.’