CHAPTER 27

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Early Saturday morning Kamov was due to call with provisions. Turgen knew that he had a credit with the merchant amounting to more than three hundred roubles. Add to this the value of the pelts he had on hand, and the sum would be about five hundred roubles. A lot of money. It would buy not only necessary supplies but dress goods for Marfa and the children.

“It might be well also,” he thought, “to get another cow and a good horse.” For though he reasoned with himself against the marriage, he could not give up hope. The merchant was a man to be trusted. He would ask his advice.

That night Turgen tossed in his sleep and his dreams were troubled. He dozed, wakened, dozed again and heard himself mutter: “But I cannot let the poor creatures starve in order to convince stupid people that I am not a friend of the devil. What kind of happiness would I have? No and no!”

And then to his surprise he saw Lad at the door of the yurta, looking at him with affection and saying in a human voice: “Why don’t you sleep, Turgen? You know that I and my parents, and indeed the entire herd, are praying for you. Sleep. All will be well.”

Turgen sprang from his bed, rubbed his eyes and looked around the yurta. No one was there. Logs crackled in the komelek, the room was warm and snug. Stepping outside the door he looked at the moon and stars, worlds away, making bright patterns in the night-black sky. A wonder, but distant from his thoughts just now. “Merciful God,” he whispered as he turned back, “what is wrong with me? Am I ill that such strange things haunt me?”

Suddenly something came over him, a feeling of peace and well-being which seemed to promise that though he could not know the answers to all his questioning, they would be revealed in good time. The Great Spirit was on guard and would see to it. So, reassured, he fell asleep.

When Kamov arrived in the morning, Turgen greeted him cordially and set about preparing refreshments. Outwardly he was calm but he had difficulty keeping mind on what the merchant was saying. Once he caught himself hanging an empty kettle over the fire, and nothing he wanted was in its usual place.

Kamov could not help noticing Turgen’s distraction. Perhaps the man was ill--worried. To live too much alone was bad. The merchant respected the Lamut and liked him. He remembered with gratitude how once Turgen had cured him of acute stomach pains, and he would return the favor if he could. But it is not the habit of northern people to pry. There is a right and a wrong time to ask questions.

So the two men ate while they exchanged news of no importance. Afterwards they settled back to enjoy their pipes. From behind a cloud of smoke Kamov spoke.

“You know, Turgen, you have a considerable sum of money with me. Hundreds of roubles. Why don’t you spend some of it?”

“Yes ... Well ... I have everything I need....” Turgen stopped, not knowing how to tell the merchant what was in his mind. “However, I have been thinking of making quite a large purchase.”

Kamov saw that the conversation was taking an important turn. Cautiously feeling his way, he said:

“I mention this because we are living at God’s mercy. If I should die, no one would know how much I owe you. For I carry everything in my head. You know yourself that most of the hunters are in my debt. And your case is special. I should not like to go before God owing you so much. It happens that I have brought with me a great deal of merchandise. Friend, take as much as you like.”

“Why talk of death?” Turgen answered. “May God grant you many summers and winters of life in good health. It is already more than thirty winters that I have been dealing with you and I am not complaining. Besides, who of us knows whose turn will come first?”

Kamov sighed, “Nor am I complaining. My health and business are very good. I won’t hide it from you. I make a fair profit, and without cheating. Maybe that is why God has blessed me with a comfortable living and a fine family. I am surprised that you go on living alone. It must be hard--ay?”

It was this question that Turgen needed to unlock his thoughts. He took a long pull at his pipe before he replied: “It is difficult, very difficult. But a change is about to take place in my life....”

Carefully he told the merchant all about Marfa and the children, and how happy he would be to have a family except that he feared the ill-will of the Yakuts in the valley would spoil everything.

“You know yourself,” he concluded, “that I am not a sorcerer. I believe in God. I had thought to purchase quite a lot of your wares, also to ask where I could get a good horse and cow. Then my household would be complete. But what about this feeling about me? What was bad before will be doubly bad if I have a family. I want to explain all this to Marfa, but I don’t know how. God forbid, she might think me a coward and afraid of responsibility. You are a wise man ... what do you advise?”

Kamov leisurely emptied the ashes from his pipe, was silent a moment and then said:

“You ask for advice? I’ll give it gladly. But this matter isn’t as simple as it seems. It needs explaining. Yes, I’ve heard the gossip about you--such lies I wonder anyone can believe them. You should have spoken to me before. Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Turgen admitted. “But a man is ashamed to be thought a partner of the devil.”

Kamov scratched the back of his head as he considered this.

“It is and it isn’t a matter for laughing. When I was young and a hunter, a bear once rumpled me badly. But the wounds healed long ago and now I feel no pain at all. Yet human tongues speaking evil can inflict wounds no medicines will heal....”

He paused, filled his pipe and lit it. Suddenly a smile broke over his face. “My friend, I have found a way out for you! Why didn’t I think of it before? It is so very simple.”

Excited, Turgen jumped to his feet. “Then tell me. Help me.”

“Of course ... of course,” Kamov said reassuringly.

He rose, paced back and forth for a minute, and stroked his forehead as if gathering his thoughts together.

“Turgen, you know that the Yakuts are like children. It is easy to lead them astray with lying words. But no one can doubt that they believe in God and fear the devil. No one. They are all Christians even though many of them still run to the shamanists. It was the shamanist who did you the greatest harm--because he was jealous of you. The people came to you for advice and to be cured and you helped them without charge. This took business away from him.”

“Maybe,” Turgen admitted.

“Believe me, it was so,” Kamov said positively. “And for that reason the shamanist spread foolish tales about you--how with the devil’s help you were able to make friends with the mountain rams. The simple people could believe such nonsense because rams are known to hate the scent of human beings--so why would they eat the food you brought?... No, the Yakuts are stupid no doubt, but not evil. They just believed the first thing they heard. Now--”

Kamov paused dramatically.

“My idea is this. The Yakuts are Christians. They believe in God. You and Marfa are Christians. That being so, you must be married in the Christian manner. You see how simple it is. Once you are joined in God’s temple by a priest, who will sprinkle you with holy water and give you the Gospel and the Cross to touch, not a soul will dare to say that you are a friend of the devil. Believe me, faith and prayer--they are the best answer to slander. Do you understand?”

Turgen nodded. “I feel that you speak the truth, Kamov. Tell me, what must I do? Go to a priest? That will be about sixty miles, but I can do it easily on my skis. What shall I say to him? I have never in my life had anything to do with a priest. And this is a delicate subject.... Teach me, my friend!”

Kamov patted Turgen on the shoulder, pleased to have his advice so well received. “Don’t excite yourself. You need do nothing. I will see to everything myself. The priest is a friend of mine. You will make a donation to the church and pay the trifling expenses--that is all. Thank God you are not a poor man.... And now we must set a day for the wedding. What would you say to Sunday, two weeks from now? Time is needed for preparations, and I want to spread news of the wedding among the valley people. Father Peter, as you know, is greatly respected. I shall tell the Yakuts, too,” Kamov added with a sly wink, “that I will be your best man. Popov can give the bride away. Everyone looks up to him, and besides he lives close to the chapel. Do you agree?”

“I agree to everything. Thank you. Thank you,” said Turgen gratefully.

“Well, then, all is settled. Just don’t say anything to Marfa. I will see Popov at once, and arrange for a party at his house after the wedding. He’s a good man and I do a lot of business with him. He won’t refuse. About the cow--we will buy that from Popov. One hand washes the other, you know.” Here Kamov winked at Turgen again. “As for the horse, that will be my present, as best man, to you. But there is one thing I ask of you.”

“Yes, yes,” Turgen interrupted. “Anything.”

“I know that you are not a drinking man, Turgen. Perhaps you do not approve of others drinking. But the Yakuts will not think it possible to celebrate an occasion as important as a wedding without both prayer and vodka. Nothing too gay because you aren’t young any more. Just enough to wet their throats and lighten their hearts.”

Turgen smiled. “Why not? I have no objection. I do not drink because many years ago I took a little too much of the poison, and when returning home I lost my way, fell into a hole and almost froze to death. That experience taught me a lesson, and I promised my wife that never again would I touch a drop of the stuff. However, it is not for me to sit in judgment upon others. Our guests must be free to do as they please.”

“Good!” Kamov exclaimed. “That’s a sensible and just way to look at it.”

Kamov remembered at this point that his horses had not been fed or watered.

“It’s a pull up the mountain, too,” he explained, “though fortunately the snow is not deep. Come help me bring the merchandise indoors where you can examine it. If I don’t have everything you want with me, I’ll get it from my store and send it direct to Marfa.”

As Turgen selected from Kamov’s stores all the things he wanted for Marfa and the children and the new home they would have together there was joy in his heart. Thinking of the pleasure his purchases would bring, he considered that he was performing one of the most important acts of his lifetime. And this feeling of exaltation stayed with him long after Kamov had left.

“No, the world is not lacking in kind people,” he reflected. “How good it is to open one’s heart to a friend.” Truly it was a miracle that the Great Spirit had sent Lad in the night with the promise that all would be well. And how comforting to know that he, Turgen, did not bear his responsibility alone, but that Someone greater and wiser than he commanded his life.

He did his chores that evening as if wings lent lightness to his feet. After emptying the nets and snares of game, he rushed to feed his rams. “Eh, my darlings, if you could only know how happy I am!” he called. But the herd did not show itself.

Then before re-entering his yurta, he stopped by the grave of his wife and son. “Long ago you went away from me, but still you are close,” he addressed them, and his words were a prayer. “This is the place above all places where I find peace. I have come to you often with my grief, so now let me come to you with my joy. Give me your blessing, that I am to be alone no longer. What have I done to deserve this I do not know, but who does know the Great Spirit or the extent of His generosity? May His grace be with us all, forever.”

Such a day must be concluded in a fitting manner, so Turgen got out his reed and played and played until it seemed the walls of the yurta could not contain so much melody. He sang of hope and joy and beauty and peace of soul. And finally he slept dreamlessly, hearing still the music of his own creation.

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