Berezovo: A Revolutionary Russian Epic

“I think, Your Excellency,” he drawled, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his immaculately creased trouser leg, “that what the colonel is implying is that if you know how long they are to be away, their direction of travel and that they have to do at least fifty versts a day, it would only be a matter of time, a few days at the most, before you could calculate the convoy’s destination. Am I not correct, Colonel?”

Izorov nodded, his face betraying the ghost of a smile.

“Ah, yes, of course,” the Mayor said hurriedly and sank back crestfallen into his seat.

“Anyway,” Izorov remarked, “if anyone should wonder, you must tell them that the reindeer will not be returning, just like the prisoners.”

“Oh really?” said Captain Steklov with a wry smile. “Are you going to shoot them dead in case they talk?”

Determined to press home his attack on the Mayor, Izorov ignored the young officer’s jibe.

“My orders are quite specific,” he repeated. “The civil authorities are responsible for the provision of eighty reindeer and forty sleighs to transport the convoy to the prisoners’ eventual place of settlement.”

“Forty sleighs!” exclaimed the Mayor, half rising out of his chair. “But there aren’t that many in the town! Where am I meant to get forty sleighs from?”

“That is your concern, not mine. My orders are quite clear,” the colonel insisted. “They come from the minister himself, empowering me to even declare a state of siege should I think it necessary.”

“Siege law, oh dear!” muttered Skyralenko, shaking his head unhappily.

“Quite so, siege law. And might I remind all of you,” Izorov went on, “what that means? The suspension of all civil authority and the summary detention and elimination of those unwilling to cooperate with those officers empowered by the Imperial Crown for the maintenance of law and order. But I am sure,” he concluded with a wintry smile, “that it won’t come to that. As for the sleighs, I believe that there is a proviso in the terms of the Cholera Relief Fund for the commissioning of vehicles in the event of an emergency. And this is an emergency.”

At the mention of the fund, the Mayor felt himself grow cold. Suspecting that his secretary had known all along, he promised himself that one day the wretch’s neck would be as twisted as his body.

“At least, Colonel,” he insisted, “you can give me some help with the deer. Grant me the authority to commandeer a couple of herds. Or even better, lend me a few men so that the Ostyaks know that we mean business.”

Izorov shook his head.

“I think, Your Excellency, that my men will have enough to do in the coming days without floundering around in the snow rounding up reindeer. No, it’s your responsibility.”

Leaning forward in his seat, he tapped the pile of papers that lay neatly stacked in front of him.

“One word of warning, though. Should some of the deer go lame and delay the convoy, perhaps giving one of the prisoners the opportunity to escape, then you will be held personally responsible. Therefore, I earnestly recommend you to be very careful that only the best animals are chosen. We don’t want any rubbish, do you understand?”

Mayor Pobednyev nodded unhappily.

Satisfied that the Mayor’s guns had been momentarily spiked, Colonel Izorov settled back comfortably in his chair.

“Do either of you have any questions?” he demanded of the other two men sitting opposite him. “Now is the time to ask them.”

Shuffling forward in his seat, Skyralenko cast an enquiring glance at the handsome captain beside him. With a vague sweep of his hand, Captain Steklov gave way.

“Well,” the gaoler began, “there are one or two points I am not quite certain of, Konstantin Illyich.”

“Go on.”

Skyralenko hesitated and moved forward again, until he was perching earnestly on the edge of his seat.

“As I said earlier,” he began again nervously, “there is the problem of accommodation, especially since you tell us they have brought their wives and children with them.”

“Only some of them have,” Izorov corrected him.

“Granted, only some of them,” Skyralenko conceded hastily. “However, I still have only six cells and half of those are already occupied, either with prisoners awaiting trial or serving their sentence. In my opinion…”

He paused again, glancing nervously at the colonel’s watchful expression as he tried to gauge his mood.

“Yes, in my opinion, these new prisoners will provide a hazard to the security of the prison. As you are aware, ‘politicals’ and ordinary criminals don’t mix. They are like oil and water. What with bringing women into the cells and the overcrowding, we must expect trouble. Remember also I have only six staff to help me. Not,” he added hastily, “that I am asking for more men. But couldn’t we put some of these people – say the women and children, at least – somewhere else?”

The colonel spread his hands open as if to say: look, I am a reasonable man.

“Where did you have in mind, Dimitri Borisovich?”