Koloskavets was a small stone house built on one of the rolling hills above Borodino. Behind it the dense, dark pine forests protected it from the north, and presumably supplied the game for whose sake it had originally been built. Before it a small terrace ended in a wall, below which the hillside fell away, down to the village and the Kolotcha River for which the house had been named, a winding watercourse which paralleled the Highway before turning northeast and emptying itself at last into the Moskva, the river on which Moscow was built.
Inside the house was fairly primitive, having been intended only for use during the summer months as a hunting-lodge. Its furniture was sparse and old-fashioned, but solid; the air struck rather chill and damp, despite the summer heat outside, and everything was inches thick in dust. An old couple, living in quarters at the back of the house, were there as caretakers, but it was many years since any member of the Tchaikovsky family had used Koloskavets, and they had ceased to bother very much about it.
Anne soon had all the windows opened, the furniture dusted, and the fires laid and lit to air the rooms; her own sheets put upon the beds, and her own food, from an ample hamper she had brought with her, put upon the table. It was not so bad, after all; and it was only for a short time, and living rough would not hurt her.
She had entrusted Akim Shan with a letter for Kirov, and hoped for an answer within a few days. What she got was better than that, for early in the afternoon of the 31st he arrived on horseback, accompanied by Adonis.
There was little of coherence spoken between them for the first hour or two. After witnessing the first silent joy of their meeting, Adonis took the horses and ushered the servants away, leaving them in privacy. After a few minutes, they retired by common consent to Anne’s bedchamber. It was what they both seemed to want most of all, and it didn’t seem wrong – only necessary, and the quickest way to restore their perfect communion, after the disruption of so many weeks.
They made love with the ease of accustomed lovers, and then lay for a while in each other’s arms without talking, simply savouring being together. Then they got up, and went out to sit on the terrace in the late sunshine and look at the view. Stenka and his wife Zina shuffled out with tea in a huge and ancient samovar from which the silver-gilt had rubbed brassily, accompanied incongruously by cups of the most exquisite, almost transparent Chinese porcelain.
While they drank their tea, Nikolai told her that he had not come from Tsarevo, but from Ghzatsk, a village half-way between Tsarevo and Borodino.
‘We arrived at Tsarevo early on the 29th, and Tolly gave orders for us to dig in. It was a good place to fortify – on rising ground, with a clear view in every direction. Everyone thought so. We’d got the men busy digging redoubts and strengthening the walls, and around noon Kutuzov arrived from Petersburg. Bennigsen was with him – they met on the road – and Kutuzov had already asked him to be his chief of staff. But as soon as he arrived he told Tolly he wanted him to remain as commander of the first army, and Minister for War.’
‘Well, that’s something. It must have soothed poor Tolly’s pride a little.’
‘A very little, I suppose. The trouble is that Kutuzov brought with him a huge headquarters staff of the sons of aristocrats, the very hot-headed young know-nothings that Tolly’s been at pains to eliminate over the past months. We shall have our work cut out to counteract that influence.’
‘Everyone’s been talking about Kutuzov as though he’s a saviour,’ Anne said. ‘In Mozhaisk they thought the war was as good as won.’
‘He’s very popular with the peasantry,’ Nikolai shrugged. ‘When he made the round of inspection, the men were all overjoyed, and cheered themselves hoarse over him. They think he’s one of them you see, because he dresses like an Old Russian, and talks their language. He has a way of delivering short, pithy sentences in soldier’s Russian that goes straight to their hearts.’
The breeze whispered through the pine trees, and the shadow of a fast-moving cloud ran across them. For a moment it was quite cool. Autumn was coming; Anne could smell it in the breeze, a smell of ending and turning towards sleep. She shivered, and turned towards her lover for comfort.
‘So what did the great hero do when he arrived?’
‘He didn’t do very much, just listened and nodded, inspected everything, praised quite a bit. We had a meeting at headquarters, and Tolly explained the situation and the advantages of defending Tsarevo, and the old man said he agreed, and that as far as he could see everything was very well thought out, and the work that had been started should proceed.’
‘He came meaning to placate, then?’
‘So it seemed. Tolly was pleased about it, as you can imagine. However, the next day various members of his suite apparently took Kutuzov’s ear, and told him that it was humiliating for him to accept a battle site chosen by someone else; and that if things went well, half the credit would go to Tolly and not to him.’
‘Oh, no, but surely–’ Anne protested.
Nikolai shrugged. ‘They must have persuaded him. Yesterday afternoon he suddenly announced that we were to abandon Tsarevo and take up a new position on the other side of Ghzatsk. Tolly was furious – all that work wasted, and a good position abandoned! We moved out during the night, and this morning when we got to Ghzatsk, Tolly said there would be nothing important for me to do while the men were digging in again, and that I might as well make use of the lull to come and see you.’
‘How kind of him! So he knew I was here?’
‘He was with me when your Tartar Prince delivered your letter the day before yesterday.’
Anne told him how she had met up with Akim Shan. ‘I hope General Tolly welcomed him. He’s come a long way to fight.’
‘Oh, Tolly knew his value all right. He’s got him and his men out on the Smolensk road bringing in regular reports on the French movements. He told him when the battle began, he could join Ataman Platov’s regiment of Cossacks, but your prince rather turned up his nose at that, and told Tolly very grandly that he would choose for himself where to fight.’
‘Poor Tolly.’
‘Yes. I don’t think he quite knew how to take that. He asked me afterwards if Akim Shan could be trusted, and when I told him that he could trust him perfectly, since he hated the French far more than the Russians, he looked quite put out.’ Those were the things they spoke of in the afternoon, as the sun of the last day of August sank bloodily in the west. Supper was brought to them on the terrace, and they ate by lamplight, served by Adonis, who wouldn’t let anyone else, not even Pauline, come near them. After supper there was nothing they wanted more than to go to bed. They made love again, slowly, almost pensively; and then, lying in the candlelight in each other’s arms, they talked of other things.
‘I couldn’t believe it when I read your letter. I thought my imagination must be playing tricks on me – it happens sometimes when you’re very tired. I wanted to saddle my horse right then and come to you.’ He sighed, holding her close. ‘It’s been a long two months.’
‘Yes,’ she said. She had seen how long in his face. There was far more grey now in his hair, and his eyes were shadowed with more than weariness. ‘I almost didn’t come. I thought you might think I was a nuisance.’
‘Why did you come? You couldn’t have known it would be in my power to visit you.’
‘I hoped, that’s all.’
She was cradled safe in his arms; and his child was cradled safe in her womb. For a moment it was in her mind to tell him, but the thought of all he had before him deterred her. His being here, though for her the whole purpose of life, was for him only an interlude between worries more pressing than she could imagine, and probably more real to him at the moment than she was. No, this was not the time. A better time would come, when this could be the most important thing in the world for both of them.