I am weak so I cannot live with you under a perfect love. Forgive me, for God’s sake.
God will forgive you, said Kseniya. You serve your memory and display boundless devotion, but know, O Arseny, that you are destroying the living in the name of the dead.
The whole point, shouted Arseny, is that Ustina is alive, too, and the baby is alive and they crave to be atoned for. Who will atone for them if not I, who has sinned?
We will. The two of us and Silvester, who will be happy to share a prayer with you. And he will be happy to return your serenity to you. His prayer is pleasing to the Lord. The three of us, together, will pray to the Lord on all dayes, from morning until evening. Just do not leave us, O brother mine Arseny.
Kseniya was pale and thus inexpressibly beautiful. Arseny felt a lump growing in his throat. As he left, he saw Silvester in the entry room; his gaze was achingly lonely. Arseny burst out sobbing from that gaze. He covered his face with his hands and flung himself from the house. He walked along the pine fencing and sobbed loudly. Nobody saw him because it was already night in Belozersk. The people of Belozersk only heard his sobs and wondered whose they might be, for they had not previously been familiar with this voice of Arseny’s.
As he arrived home, Arseny wiped away his tears and told Ustina:
And so you see, my love, what is happening. I have not spoken with you, my love, for several months and I have no excuse. Instead of atoning for my sin, I am ever more mired in it. How can I pray for your atonement before God, my poor girl, when I myself am sinking into the abyss? It would not be so regrettable, you know, if I alone were to be lost forever, but who will atone for thee and the babe? I am the only one here who prays fervently for you and that is the sole reason that I still do not despair.
That is what Arseny said to Ustina. He gathered Christofer’s manuscripts in a bag, showed it to Ustina, and added:
Here is the bag with Christofer’s manuscripts, essentially the most treasured thing that I have. I would take it and go wherever I feel like, away from my renown. My renown has overcome me: it is driving me into the ground and preventing me from conversing with Him. I would leave here, my love, but the prince of this cyte will not release me, though the main thing that keeps me here is Kseniya and Silvester. They would be happy to pray with me for you and the baby but they do not understand that only I can do that. I am the only one on this earth who is still united with you and it is as if you continue to live through me. But Kseniya thinks I am destroying the living in the name of the dead and wants to pray for you as if you were dead, though I happen to know you are alive, only in a different way.
Arseny began thinking. He stroked the bag with the manuscripts and they answered him with a birch-bark rustle.
You know, I am going to the city gates. They are shut at this tyme but yf it will be necessary, an angel will lead me from this cyte.
His gaze fell on the fur coat the prince had given him. He had never even worn it. Despite its grandeur, the fur coat was neither heavy nor cumbersome. Arseny put on the fur coat and strolled around the room. He liked the fur coat. Arseny grew uneasy because he thought he was beginning to value the comfort of expensive things. He stood in the fur coat for about a minute but decided not to take it off after all. If he truly had a journey ahead of him, this sort of fur coat might come in handy. He noticed several more of Christofer’s manuscripts on the bench by the door. He did not feel like untying his well-packed bag. Arseny shoved the manuscripts into the pocket of the fur coat and left the house.
Snow was blowing and drifting outside. Arseny felt its prickly touch on his cheeks but saw nothing in the darkness. Not one light was shining in the windows, and that was a good sign: in Arseny’s life, lights at night accompanied illnesses and deaths. The darkness did not prevent him from walking. He could have made his way to the city gates with his eyes closed.
It was a little brighter in the open area near the gates. Arseny noticed movement in one corner of the square. After wavering, he went over there. A horse and rider gradually became visible, against the background of a freshly planed fence. Arseny did not know if angels rode horseback. Another horse stood alongside.
Ready? the horseman quietly asked.
Ready, Arseny replied, just as quietly.
The horseman silently motioned to the other horse, and Arseny jumped into the saddle. The horseman started off in the direction of the gates. Arseny followed him. At the gates, the horseman dismounted and knocked at the guard booth. Something sleepy was uttered in response. The horseman entered. A quiet conversation accompanied by the jingle of coins could be heard from the booth. A minute later, several people, the horseman among them, came out of the booth. He got in the saddle again. Two people put a key in a lock and turned it with an unexpectedly loud clank that rolled through the hushed city. Three others pushed on the gates. They opened them, again with a creak, to exactly the distance needed for a horse to pass through. The night wayfarers disappeared through that crack.
The guards are venal, said Arseny’s traveling companion, once they were far from the gates.
Arseny nodded, though nobody saw it. His traveling companion said nothing more to him. They soon entered the forest. Only there did it become completely obvious what true darkness is. They were forced to ride slowly; the horses had to feel around to place their hooves. One time a branch hit the stranger’s face and he cursed foully. Arseny realized he was not accompanied by an angel. He had suspected that from the first moment they met.
A quarter of an hour later, a second branch knocked the horseman from his saddle. As he fell, he awkwardly splayed his leg, injuring it. He tried to get up right away, stood on the injured leg, and collapsed to the ground with a groan.
My leg… Son of a bitch, did myself in with all that riding.
Arseny jumped from his horse and went over to the fallen man. He carefully felt his leg.
It’s nothing serious, just a dislocation. The main thing is the bone is intact.
The stranger tensed at the sound of Arseny’s voice. Arseny felt the leg jolt.
This is easy to deal with, Arseny said to liven him up.
Without saying a word, the other man grabbed Arseny by the hair and pulled him toward himself. Arseny felt a knife at his throat.
Who are you? wheezed the stranger.
Me? Arseny.
I’ll slice you up, you lowlife.
Why? asked Arseny.
The question seemed pointless, even to him.
Because my man Stinge was supposed to be in your place. The stranger shook Arseny and the knife lightly cut the skin on his neck. What, you telling me you’re Stinge?
No, said Arseny.
Then how’d you end up here, you nit?
You were the one who asked if I was ready.
And what of it?
And I was ready.
Oh, jeez, you… Stinge is going to slice me up next time I see him. Son of a bitch, I didn’t just bring you, I brought our money, his and mine… Now he’s sitting there thinking I skipped town on him, that’s what’s so shitty. That’s what’s so shitty, is what I’m saying!
He shook Arseny again but the knife no longer touched his throat.
Just explain to him that everything is all my fault, said Arseny.
Right, like he’s just waiting for my explanations. No, no, I wouldn’t even have a damn chance to open my mouth. But I’m going to slice you up before that, you got it?
A certain calming could be felt in his bitter words, though. His change in tone offered a chance for the travelers to reconcile themselves to their circumstances. Arseny gently took away his traveling companion’s knife and got to work on his leg. He reset the leg with one jerk as the man briefly shouted.