Twelve: (The Danilov Quintet 1) by Jasper Kent

Author:Jasper Kent
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Horror, Ghost, Fantasy, Historical, General
Publisher: Transworld
Published: 2009-01-01T03:51:12+00:00

CHAPTER XVI

IT TOOK US THREE DAYS TO GET TO YURYEV-POLSKY. I WAS SURPRISED how soon out of Moscow the country began to return to normal. We saw serfs working in the fields and wagons taking goods to local markets. Some were even travelling in the opposite direction to us, back towards Moscow, where they knew they could get the best price for what they had to sell. Nowhere was there a French uniform in sight.

I slept more comfortably than I had for many days, and not just thanks to my receding fear. For inns along the road it was business as usual, so we were well fed and well looked after. Prices were back to normal – a joy after the exploitation of occupied Moscow – and because Dmitry was seen by all as an heroic wounded soldier, we always got a little more of everything than we might otherwise.

Dmitry and I spoke much on our journey and our friendship became cemented once again. We didn't discuss any weighty matters, such as the war, and we certainly never got on to the Oprichniki, but through normal conversation we remembered who we were and managed to forget – or at least suppress – the events that had forced us apart over the past weeks.

Yuryev-Polsky was packed with refugees and with wounded soldiers. Finding care for Dmitry was no problem. He was given a bed in a makeshift hospital – formerly a convent – and medical opinion was that he would recover. The scars would always show, but even the use of his right hand should return to him eventually.

I left him and went to look for Domnikiia. It turned out to be easier to find Pyetr Pyetrovich, whom everyone in the town seemed to know. If you needed something, anything, Pyetr Pyetrovich could furnish you with it – for a price. Food, alcohol, ammunition – he was the man to get it for you. I found him in a tavern. He was unmistakable as one of the courageous few who still opted for elegant French fashions; though that appeared to be no obstruction to his businesslike discussion with a colonel in the artillery. When he had finished, I approached.

'Pyetr Pyetrovich?' I said, offering my hand.

'Yes,' he replied, taking my hand and trying to remember where he had seen me before.

'I'm Captain Danilov,' I told him. 'I was hoping you could help me, I'm looking for Domnikiia Semyonovna.' He looked at me blankly. 'For Dominique.'

'Ah!' he exclaimed, recognizing me at last. 'For Dominique.' He lowered his voice. 'I'm afraid, captain, that for the time being, that side of my business is closed – not that I have had any problems with it, I assure you. It's just that at the moment there are far better ways to earn a living. But once you boys can clear Bonaparte out of Moscow, then it will be business as usual, don't you worry.' He winked.

'I simply want to see her,' I explained with some restraint. 'She is a friend.

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