Free Flight to Verechenko by Margaret Pemberton

scurried backwards and forwards in a frenzy of activity. To Catherine’s relief the Marquis was neither at breakfast nor lunch and was nowhere to be seen either in the house or in the garden. Fairy lights were strung along the terrace and through the trees, barrels of beer were rolled from the cellar and giant tables were laden with food. It was dusk when the earth shook beneath the onslaught of hooves and a score of horseman galloped down Verechenko’s driveway in a cloud of swirling dust. Minutes later the salon doors opened and Captain Bestuzhev was announced.
    Catherine’s first impression was that he was enormous. He was even taller than Alexis, with bulging thigh muscles and the neck and shoulders of a bull. His great dome of a head was bald and shiny, his mouth unsmiling beneath a dropping, grizzled moustache. He brought into the room a smell of sweat and horses and something else that Catherine could not define. He bent over her hand and she flinched inwardly, understanding Maria’s dislike of him. His eyes, half hidden in thick folds of flesh, drifted over her speculatively and then he was accepting a vodka and Alexis was saying to him, ‘The children are looking forward to seeing your men ride. It was very generous of you to offer to come.’
    Bestuzhev shrugged. ‘It gives them a little practice,’ he said indifferently, ‘We have to perform before the Tsarina soon and the food and drink that you supply for my men is always generous.’
    Alexis slapped him on the back. ‘Then let’s get the party under way. Are you ready, my dear?’
    The Countess nodded. Dmitri stepped forward, picking her up into his arms and carrying her out onto the terrace to the waiting sofa. Catherine followed, wrapping a fur carefully around Maria’s shoulders and handing her her muff.
    Lanterns glowed like fire-flies in the dusk and the small lake gleamed dull gold beneath lamp-lit trees. In the light of flaring torches she could see Bestuzhev mounting his horse and Alexis taking the children to a safe vantage point.
    The servants crowded the foot of the terrace steps, chattering in excitement. Alexander swung high on Alexis’ shoulders, grasped his father’s hair, his face enraptured. Slowly the twenty or so men cantered into formation, the giant-like figure of Bestuzhev at their head. For a few seconds there was complete silence, the murmur of voices dying as they all waited expectantly. Then, upright in his stirrups, Bestuzhev waved his sabre high, uttering a blood-curdling cry to charge. Catherine drew in her breath as with loud whoops men and horses thundered down towards the lake, circling it at full tilt. Like avenging furies they began to gallop back to Verechenko, their long whips cracking menacingly, their faces ferocious in the blood-red glow of the torches. Maria shivered.
    â€˜I think I will go in now,’ she said to Catherine. ‘ I can’t bear to think of the poor creatures who find themselves on the receiving end of those dreadful whips.’
    â€˜They are reining in their horses now. It’s nearly over.’
    Maria shook her head. ‘No, there will be some trick riding now. I can’t even watch that without feeling frightened. Dmitri! Dmitri!’
    Dmitri, never far away, stepped forward and lifted her gently in his huge arms, carrying her indoors. Catherine stayed out on the terrace as the Cossacks raced full tilt, swinging, somersaulting, jumping. At last, bathed in sweat and deafened by admiring cheers, they leapt from their horses to be feted with brimming tankards of beer.
    As they slaked their thirst the musicians began to play, filling the evening air with pulsating rhythms. Servants and musicians surrounded the Cossacks in a large clapping circle and as the men began to swirl and leap to the strum of balalaikas Catherine ran down the steps to get a closer look.
    A laughing Alice made room for her in the circle and she joined in