Lenins harem, p.16
Lenin's Harem, page 16
‘British frigates. Freighter escorts.’
Supplying the Germans, now properly back on the other side of the river, no doubt. ‘Which one’s got the Ulmanis government on board?’
‘None. That ship’s long gone. Far, far, out of range of our guns, probably safe in Courland by now.’ He pulled the glasses down, briefly. ‘Sorry.’
How come everything I’d ever sought was is in Courland? ‘It’s alright. I guess that makes us the proper government.’
He returned to his scope, his voice colder than the winds. ‘When the Germans owned Riga these past fifteen months were they the rightful government?’
‘No.’
‘Then we aren’t until the people accept us. And trust me, Peteris Stucka isn’t going to win us any new followers.’ Such a nasty tone. In the history or warfare had any victors ever been in a sourer mood? All that sacrifice …
The two of us stood in silence, the day’s reception floating in our minds.
I’d been sober too long, far too long. ‘I need a drink’
Juskevics surprised me. ‘Yeah, me too.’
*****
Perhaps I’d lost my mind for a moment? Or an hour? Or two? After all, it had been a wild evening. Juskevics had misplaced his glasses. I had lost my grandfather’s pocket watch and my sole remaining glove. There were other foolish things perhaps, but I couldn’t quite remember them at the moment. I had never been this drunk and it felt good. To embrace the release, to lose all responsibility, to become a passenger in my own body and just see what happened.
I stumbled along, through the dark, medieval streets of oldest Riga; a stocky red-headed Latvian girl named Zane supporting my weight while Juskevics leaned on a roundish little black haired beauty of his own. Was she called Laura? Or Lara? No matter. They were as wine soaked as us, and since it was well past five o’clock in January’s freezing morning, our foursome was desperately searching for a new place to drink.
I shouted because I could. ‘No, darling. We were both part of Lenin’s Harem. But ole Juskevics here’s been spoiling for a fight, and I’ve got the wrong blood in me, so we had to transfer.’ Zane shrugged indifferently. I hadn’t slipped into speaking German, had I? Perhaps, if I talked a little louder. I found her ear, yelling: ‘It seems some people didn’t like me guarding the Kremlin.’
Zane recoiled. She’d heard that alright. I sought out Juskevics in the dark street. ‘Heinrichs, who was it that didn’t like me? Can you tell me that finally, please? Please?’ I shouted a third ‘Please!’ just to sway him.
He was practically ignoring me, his hand half down Laura’s blouse. ‘Sorry, can’t do that Wiktor. Where is this tavern Laura?’
‘Off the next alley.’ She said nearly slipping on the icy cobblestones. Juskevics held her closely, his lips pressed against her cheek. ‘Careful, Laura, if you fall we might not get up again.’
‘I might like that.’
‘Did you hear that Wiktor?’ He tossed his head around, ‘Laura might like a fall with me!’
‘It was Jekabsons wasn’t it? He always hated me, Heinrichs. I know it was him, the little bastard.’
He said nothing, deep in a sloppy, over-passionate kiss with Laura.
‘I tell you, Zane, it was Jekabsons. Little short guy, jealous of me in every way. Napoleon in worse clothes.’ She seemed surprisingly uninterested in Kremlin intrigues, trying to pull herself from my grip. What was the matter with her?
I held fast. ‘Zane, you don’t understand. Heinrichs got us transferred, transferred just so we could come and rescue you ladies. Aren’t you grateful?’
Apparently Laura was, because Juskevics had maneuvered her into a dark recesses in the near alley. I couldn’t see much in the gloom, but the few soft moans emanating from restless shadows indicated something was afoot.
Zane seemed less appreciative, she wouldn’t even kiss me. ‘Just one,’ I begged, tugging at the tails of her coat.
‘No,’ she yelled, pulling her jacket free. ‘Leave me alone.’
I was wobbly without her support. ‘Did you hear that Heinrichs, the lady isn’t grateful?’ I looked to Juskevics, but he was busy with his shadowy undertakings.
I returned for Zane, but she had disappeared. Now, that was unfriendly. I stumbled a little farther into the alley past Juskevics. ‘Zane?’ I whispered. ‘Zane?’
I careened from wall to wall, moving deeper into the off street. She was nowhere to be seen. How rude not even to say goodbye. After I had given her my grandfather’s watch.
Of course she could be standing right in front of me with the alcohol fog I was in. I took another step, crashing over a pile of open trash. The smell of rotting meat and onions filling the narrow passage. I gagged out a final: ‘Zane!’
Nothing.
Well, who needed her? Just another girl. There were thousands in this city more appreciative than her. Or should have been. Damned British.
I dug my fingernails into the dusty, ancient bricks, pulled myself up again, stood precariously, while brushing onionskins, orange peels and assorted slimes off my pants, leaned on the wall as I continued. Was this the way I’d come?
No. No. A different route. Here, the alley opened into a little courtyard, a four-way intersection, with the exit across from me twice as wide as any other. There was a beam of moonlight breaking the cloudy sky and a solitary lamp fitfully glowing above a door on the opposite side. Off in one corner, a thin, rickety old-style wagon, a lumpy tarp thrown across its bed. Somewhere, a door was creaking in the breeze. I leaned back against a near wall to rest a moment, found gravity dizzily increasing.
I must have passed out, for I was soon lying prone in the cold dirt, one elbow propped on a slight outcropping of brick. Had I dreamt them or were there voices only a moment before?
The courtyard smelled of urine. I tried to relax, let the acidic odor clear my head. Where was Heinrichs? He had taken my grandfather’s watch. I must ask for it next time I saw him.
Voices again. Heinrichs? Zane? Zane, that was her name, yes?
No, no, the words weren’t Latvian. They were…they were German?
*****
‘Heinrichs…. Heinrichs. The funniest thing happened to me.’
‘Wiktor? What is it that you need?’ He seemed agitated, standing at the tavern door, Laura on his arm holding a single burning candle in her hands. He made no motion to let me in. ‘Well?’
I put a finger to my lips. ‘Sshhh…. You’ll wake the owner.’ I sidestepped past them. In the dark interior I could see several thick, long banquet tables crossing an unadorned wooden floor. A second lit candle rested on the polished surface of a wide bar, its glow casting a shimmering white halo over the assorted bottles on the shelves behind. Along the rear wall, a skeletal stairway climbed up through the ceiling. Under lit, the whole room appeared cavernous, gloomy, mysterious.
Heinrichs shut the door behind me to cut off the draft. ‘Laura’s father is the owner, Wiktor, and he’s not in. There’s no one to wake.’
I could barely contain my excitement. ‘I found a wagon full of Germans.’
‘What?’
I started laughing hysterically. ‘They were all hiding under this tarp. It was so funny. I could see them move every once in awhile. A little ripple here, a face peeking out there, they looked like puppies in the wash basket.’
He let go of Laura’s waist. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Oh yes.’ I kept nodding until he understood.
‘We need to call the watch. To apprehend them.’
I put a hand on his chest to stop him. ‘No, no, no. You don’t understand.’
‘What do you mean?’
I just shook my head. ‘They weren’t the enemy. They were like me. Local Germans, nothing unusual.’
‘Baltic-Germans?’
A few more nods, then I pointed to my chest with both hands. ‘Like me.’
He looked at me incredulously, seeming to sober by the moment. ‘The aristocrats are raising their own army too, Wiktor.’
‘They are?’
‘Yes, they are. And you know this, Wiktor.’ He moved away from Laura, closer to me. ‘We talked about it at length this evening.’
I needed a chair. ‘I don’t know. I’m too drunk.’
His face was shadowy, but his voice too clear. ‘Not that drunk, Wiktor. You told me you feared your father, your brother might join them.’
Clearly he didn’t understand me. ‘No, no, no. Heinrichs, they’re just like me. Nothing to fear …’
‘Men need a reason to hide in a wagon, Wiktor. We can’t let this pass.’
I stumbled away into the echoing gloom. ‘They’re gone, anyway. A driver came out and took them down the road.’ Where was his sense of humor?
He followed. ‘Can you still identify the wagon? It cannot have gone far.’
I crawled up on a table, curling to sleep. ‘No… I am too drunk.’
He took the candle off the bar, set it next to my face, the heat, the light disturbing my attempt at rest. ‘You’re not too drunk. Wiktor, let’s go. Which road did they take?’
I shoved the candleholder away, hot wax spilling to the floor. Juskevics quickly righted the base before the whole thing fell. ‘I said I’m too drunk, Heinrichs.’
I closed my eyes, but his voice was still there, echoing in my head. ‘Wiktor I am ordering you to go. Captain Rooks, now!’
‘It’s no use Heinrichs, I am too drunk. I’m going to sleep.’ I was so disappointed, why hadn’t he thought it funny? Just like puppies…
‘Disobeying orders Wiktor. Do you know the penalty?’
He was so serious. I rubbed my face with my hands. ‘You won’t do anything to me, I’m your friend.’ I rolled over, more comfortable on my side. The table was so thick, it didn’t even shudder. A good bed.
He gripped my jacket, pulling me upright. Eye to eye.
‘Now, Captain Rooks.’
I pushed him away, a rough forearm detaching his grip on me. ‘I won’t.’ Why wouldn’t he let me sleep? I’d had enough of him and his arrogant Lettish ‘orders.’
I sneered directly at my assailant: ‘You owe me Heinrichs. I could have turned you into Vereshchagin many, many times.’ I rocked back onto an elbow. ‘Gaters wasn’t the only Lett with communist propaganda under his pillow.’
These words caused a transformation in Heinrichs, his own drunken, dull eyes slowly clearing. And the dumbfounded expression on his face hardened to seething rage. Handing his candle to Laura, he stepped back, undoing his shirt, button by button, a look of fiery menace in his sobering eyes that I had never seen before. Not even on the field of battle.
By the third button his undershirt was visible. Laura put a hand on his shoulder, but he only shrugged her off, keeping his eyes locked on me.
Finally he took the shirt and hung it across the back of a chair, slowly, efficiently, using the posts of the frame to support the shoulders, so it hovered there as if still filled by the spirit of a man, insignia shining a Vulcan red in the candlelight.
He took two steps toward me: ‘Okay Wiktor, okay. I am just a man now. There is no uniform. I am no longer your superior officer. Only a man, and I talk to you as one.’
I had said too much. I slid off the table, trying to settle myself on the floor. ‘Heinrichs let me…’
He waved off my overture, pointed to the ceiling. ‘I am going up to Laura’s room for one hour. One hour to sleep off these spirits. When I come back, I’m going to put that uniform on. Be an officer again. And then Wiktor, I’m going to do one of three things.’
I nodded even though I didn’t understand.
‘A squad of our soldiers is billeted not two blocks from here. Either, I am going to commend you highly for having contacted them and initiated the arrest of those men in the wagon as an appropriate action for an officer of the Red Army.’
He leaned closer. ‘Or, I am going to punish you harshly for having failed to apprehend this enemy when given the opportunity. And ignoring my orders to do so.’
He stood there a moment, his angry panting the only sound. ‘Or possibly, I will not be able to find you. Then I will only assume you have deserted… to whatever army now calls your allegiance.’
I took a wobbly step closer: ‘Heinrichs listen to me.’
His fist struck me hard below the left eye, staggering me back so far that I needed a hold on the heavy table to keep myself upright, the contents of tonight’s wine churning in my stomach.
‘That is for jeopardizing our men.’ His shaking fist casting rhythmic shadows across his face, Laura white as a ghost behind. His hand slowly unwound, steadied, a single finger remaining leveled at me. ‘And for daring to abuse our friendship.’
I found a bare wooden chair, lowered myself onto it, massaged the burning in my cheek, felt the skin already expanding.
He turned away, took a staggering step sideways, shaking his hand in pain as he made toward the stairs. Laura approached him, but no longer amorous, he pushed her away with a concussive violence I thought Juskevics could never possess. He soon disappeared up the stairwell. Laura following tentatively, unsure of her steps in her own home.
Slowly, over an hour’s time, the remaining candle diminished until the starved flame became a single fading ember and finally evaporated in a wisp of spinning white smoke.
I sat alone in the night listening to my own breathing.
*****
When Juskevics came down again six hours later, I was still sitting alone, the vision in my left eye long choked away by unattended swelling.
Silently, without salutation, without preamble, Juskevics went to his shirt. Removing it from the back of the chair, he slipped it over his shoulders, pushed his arms through the cuffs, never taking his eyes from me. Slowly he buttoned it again, from the bottom up, last night’s dark glare on his face, far more horrible now under dawn’s ashen hue.
When the collar button was securely fastened, he stuffed the tails into his trousers, and approached. Standing silently before me.
I felt the need to speak: ‘Heinrichs, I am sorry… I was drunk.’ I still was, really. But sober enough for regrets.
He spat on my boot. White and thick, the mucus hung on my toe for a few seconds, before seeping toward the floor.
Wordlessly, Juskevics marched toward the door, steps echoing long and hollow on the tavern’s wooden floor. When he reached the exit, he threw it open, letting in the painful, burning morning rays. There he hesitated, keeping his back to me, his voice was calm but acidic.
‘My report will say that Captain Wiktor Rooks failed to pursue an opportunity to capture probable enemy soldiers and was grossly negligent in his duties to follow up on suspicious activity’
I only nodded, sat hunched on my hard wooden chair.
‘And that I strongly recommend no advancement on your next grade review.’
I watched the saliva puddle beneath my toe, used the boot to rub it into the wood grain, flattening it to a damp smear on the floor.
He stepped outside the tavern onto the doorstep. Cast one last comment to me, before slamming the door thunderously.
‘And only that, Captain.’
*****
August, 1920 Moscow
‘To Licis!’
Everybody raised their glasses for my toast. ‘May he and Karina never part!’
Licis laughed his hearty laugh. He, Juskevics and I each downed our full glasses of champagne in one swallow. Was that the sixth or the seventh tonight?
The three of us sat at a lonely table underneath the sole undimmed lamp. If there was anyone else in the restaurant we had not seen them for hours.
Licis bobbled his head. ‘Oh, how the room spins, so early. That is not a good sign.’ But he laughed like it was. ‘A fine toast, Wiktor. A fine toast. I would like to return the gesture to you and Alisa.’
I only shook my head. ‘Don’t bother. She’s not speaking to me once again. These Russian women, they are very headstrong. You’ll find out soon enough.’
‘No, not my Karina. She is sweet, only a little kitten.’
Juskevics muttered, ‘You think so, but she’ll be the tiger after your wedding day. This one will watch you like a hawk, I can tell.’
Licis shrugged. ‘Tiger, hawk, kitten, am I marrying a woman or the zoo-keeper?’
I laughed. ‘You are inebriated.’
He poured more Champagne into my glass. ‘And you should be too. This may be our last night together since Juskevics is leaving us.’
‘Yes, off to fight General Wrangel. I can’t say I envy you.’ Two whole regiments had just been eaten up in that Crimean meat-grinder. The nastiest of the White Armies, the Volunteer Army of Southern Russia had been a constant threat for years. Countless Latvians had lost their lives fighting down there, Gaters not least among them. And now our friend might join them, it made me want to make amends.
‘Soon, you’ll be saying you can’t envy them, Wiktor. Just watch what we can do.’ Juskevics pointed to his head. ‘I have some ideas.’
Licis laughed over-hysterically. ‘Heinrichs with his more ideas…To Heinrich’s ideas.’
We all toasted again, each downing another glass. The room was indeed spinning.
I snapped my fingers in remembrance. ‘I have news. I received a letter from my mother today. Came through the Latvian Consulate. After five years, finally in touch.’
‘That’s fantastic.’ Licis quickly threw an arm around me, Juskevics only nodded approvingly. Some scars still hadn’t quite healed.
‘It seems they have stayed in Courland all this time.’
‘We must all visit them.’ cheered Licis.
‘That’s not so easy my friend.’ I started filling their glasses for the next toast. ‘But listen to this: My brother was a translator for the English and the Americans in Archangel.’ I pounded lightly on the table, spilling a little Champagne on the cloth. ‘Can you believe it? We were fighting on the opposite sides.’
Juskevics propped his fist beneath his chin. ‘Why didn’t he join Bermont-Avalov? From what I know of your family that army seems the sort of thing he’d support.’ There was a chilling seriousness in Juskevics tone that reminded me of that horrible night in the tavern. It might be better to distance myself from any more disloyalties.
