The Winter Horses(60)

Kalinka peeked out of the barn and watched the woman crossing an empty field; she appeared to be in a hurry. The girl quickly followed her to a row of low wooden houses with thatched roofs that had seen many better days. Given what the thin woman had said, Kalinka wondered if she and her family might even have eaten some of the thatch. She crept up to the grimy window and looked inside. The walls of the house were almost as thin as the windows and Kalinka could hear everything that was said in the bare little room.

A bearded man wrapped in animal skins was sitting in front of a meager fire. The thin woman prodded him roughly and fetched a large cooking pot down from a hook on the ceiling.

“Here, Ivan Ivanovich, you’d better stir yourself,” said the woman. “We’ve got guests.”

“Guests? Here? What do you mean? Have the Germans returned?”

“No, thank goodness. We’ve seen the last of them, I think.”

She drew open a drawer and handed the man a long knife, a hatchet and a sharpening stone.

“Now listen, I want that knife and that hatchet sharpened as quickly as possible.”

“Why?” The man laughed a horrible sort of laugh. “Are you thinking of doing away with yourself, Anfisa Petrovna?”

“I knew her name wasn’t Suliko,” Kalinka whispered to herself.

“Very funny,” said the thin woman. “Didn’t you hear what I said, you miserable old goat? We’ve got guests. I just went into our barn and found more fresh food walking around in there than this whole village has seen in years: two horses, a dog and a girl—they’re all hiding in there.”

“You’re seeing things,” said the man in the chair. “Hunger does that to you. You imagine things that aren’t there. I swear, if you stare at this fire long enough, you’ll see a side of beef on a spit.”

“No, I’m not seeing things. They’re there, all right. What’s more, they’re all in reasonable condition. The girl is thin, but there’s still some meat on her bones. If we kill them all now, we can make enough sausage to last us right through until the summer.”

The man stood up. If anything, he was even thinner than the woman—not much more than a living skeleton. “If you’re not seeing things, then you’re joking,” he growled. “It’s not possible. All of the fresh meat around here is gone.”

“No, it’s true, as I’m standing here now.”

“Honest?”

“Real meat that’s still breathing in our barn. All we have to do now is to butcher it.”

“Then we’re saved.”

“Yes. We’re saved.”

“Horse is good,” said the man. “Dog is better. But a girl is best. Just like pork, so they are.”

He started to sharpen his hatchet, as ordered.

The woman laughed cruelly. “I told them they could stay as long as they want, but I think the girl was a bit suspicious of me. So we’d better do it tonight. When they’re asleep.”

“How will you cook them?”

“I’ll use the horses for sausage meat, like I said. The dog should make a nice roast. Several nice roasts. It’s a big dog. And the girl—I was thinking—a tasty stew.”

“Stew,” said the man, and grinned horribly.

“What meat we don’t use we can dry and use to make salted bresaola—so we can chew on something when the fancy takes us. Thank goodness there’s still plenty of salt. From all the tears I’ve shed, I shouldn’t wonder.”

Kalinka had heard enough; she sprinted back to the barn, grabbed her forage bag and slung it over her shoulder.

“Come on. We’re getting out of here.”

Temüjin and Börte both climbed to their feet.

“I thought the Germans were bad,” muttered Kalinka. “But these people are much worse. I suppose that this is what war does to people. It turns them into evil monsters.”

Taras put down his chew and stood up.

“I just hope you’ve eaten lots of hay,” Kalinka told the horses, “because we have to leave immediately. They’re horrible people. Worse than you could ever imagine. They’re actually planning to eat us. All of us. That’s right, Taras. Me too. They’re cannibals. I’ve heard stories about people like this. But I never really imagined they could be true. I knew that woman was looking at us in a strange way. I just wish I hadn’t given her the last of our sausage and some bread.”

Taras barked his agreement.

“To think I actually felt sorry for her.”

Kalinka jumped up on Börte’s back and rode quickly out of the barn, with Temüjin and Taras following; in the distance, she could see the woman running after them. She was carrying a samovar on the end of a broom handle that was balanced over her shoulder.