The Russlander (18 page)

“We could become the new scapegoat,” Abram said.

“We already are,” David said softly to Katya's father.

“Let's not exaggerate,” her father replied.

In the silence that followed, birds could be heard singing from the briar hedges that grew alongside the equipment shed. The woman who had fainted was Willy Krahn's new wife, Frieda. She'd afforded the women the opportunity not only to escape the heat but, as well, Abram's report. Helena Sudermann had sent Sophie and Greta to the storehouse to get refreshments for the women and they were returning now, pulling wagons filled with pails of sliced watermelon and bottles of
kvass
. The bottles tinkled noisily as they came past the shed, drawing longing glances from the men inside. The trill of women's laughter rose above the sound of tinkling bottles on the wagon, above the voices of small children playing in the shade of the vine arbour, entertained there by Lydia and her friends.

“
Na ja
. Those who have much to lose also have much to fear,” one of the ministers said.

“The more a person fears, the more he looks to God for help,” another man countered.

“Yes, and he looks to his Cossacks, too,” a man sitting beside Willy said, and laughed to temper his words. But most knew he
wasn't joking, as there had been criticism levelled at Abram when he'd hired Cossacks to guard his pastures and fields.

“We're not German. This is our fatherland. We're as much Russian as anyone,” Isaac Sudermann stood up to say.

“Whichever the way the wind blows, you're sure to find good old Isaac,” David said to Katya's father, loud enough that others heard, and nodded in agreement.

When Isaac sat down, David Sudermann got up, causing a stir around him.

“Some of us think we should talk about our pacifist principle. While I may believe that it's our duty to try and uphold that principle, others may disagree. Intolerance isn't the Christian way. Different views should be allowed and debated, and we should begin to do so, today.” David's voice was strong and confident, the voice of a man accustomed to speaking in public.

“Why today?” a man asked.

“Well, that should be apparent,” David replied.

“This is not the time, nor will there ever be a time for such talk. As Christians we will not depart from the belief of pacifism. It was the practice of Christ, and it's what Christ demands of his followers.” When the
Ältester
spoke, his voice quavered with emotion.

“I'm speaking about self-protection,” David said. “There's a callous disregard for the law everywhere. Just recently six of my brother's cows were butchered on the pasture, and in broad daylight. If there's a war, and if, as my brother says, it goes badly, we could find ourselves without protection. We should begin to talk about what to do if that should happen.”

“The tsar is our protector,” the man sitting beside Willy Krahn replied. “We have his word. We're Russian citizens and entitled to protection against our enemies.”

“How can we expect the tsar to protect us when we're not willing to protect the tsar?” David asked.

“This talk must stop,” a minister said.

The shed erupted with voices, men rising to argue all at once.

Late in the afternoon the Wiebe sisters came with baskets of food, and Katya helped load the baskets onto the wagon. Then she and Mary noticed at the same time the hunting guns lying on sacks. There was a crate holding brandy and schnapps already on the wagon. Faith Conference, Mary said wryly. When Michael Orlov rode in moments later with a greyhound tethered to his saddle and three more dogs running behind, it became clear what Abram had in store.

Franz Pauls and Dietrich went to meet Michael, Franz wearing leather riding breeches which revealed his spindly legs. Although this was the first time he'd seen Abram's refurbished study, he'd offered to show it to several men, acting as though he were one of the hosts and not an unexpected guest. They should see the fine craftsmanship of the lacquered cabinet which had been built around the Wells Fargo safe, or the new painting Aganetha had purchased, a painting of hounds and red-coated horsemen. He had surprised the Sudermanns with his presence, arriving in time for the noon meal – which was convenient, Helena had said, but one more person wouldn't matter, given the platters heaped with lamb and slabs of ham, the pots filled to brimming with
varenyky
in sour-cream gravy. He'd been in Ekaterinoslav, and thought, why not drop in before returning to Rosenthal, he'd told Helena, his eyes roaming among the young women, flickering with hurt as he glanced at Justina on the arm of her new husband.

Katya's father and David Sudermann decided against going hunting and rounded up those who wanted to go for a walk, and although Greta was kept busy helping Sophie in the kitchen, Katya was free to go with them. As they crossed the meadow, Lydia and her friends hurried to catch up. When it became apparent that
another man would ride Abram's prized red stallion, Franz Pauls decided against going hunting and called from the road that they should wait for him too. Lydia groaned and went off in a huff, and except for Nela Siemens, those with her turned back. Nela's father was one of the ministers from Rosenthal attending the gathering, a stout elderly man who hadn't joined in the noisy discussion which broke out following Abram's report. Katya had seen him ambling in the west garden as though deep in thought.

Now as they went walking in the forest, Franz Pauls, who had received news that he'd passed entrance examinations to a teachers' college, gave Katya's father and David an account of the exam questions. He walked in front of Katya and her father, alongside David, his hands clasped at his back as though already a learned teacher, and not a prospective and awkward-looking student stumbling over tree roots. They were followed by a squirrel that leapt from tree to tree, and stopped to peer at them with its beady eyes. During the time he'd been in Ekaterinoslav writing the exams, there had been a students' strike at the Institute of Geology, Franz went on to say. However, it had been quickly brought under control by the police.

“A few students have made it bad for everyone, and now a person can be arrested just for going for a walk,” Franz said. “I didn't dare speak German, My Mennonite colleagues and I spoke Russian, even while travelling between our lodgings and the college,” he said, sounding suddenly world-wise, although everyone knew that this had been his first trip to the city. “We'd be smart to stop speaking German in public.”

Just then the squirrel leapt to a tree beyond the path and came halfway down its trunk to chatter at them.

“And who will you report us to, eh?” David said to the squirrel. “Look, Franz. Already there are language spies behind every tree. You'd better speak Russian here and now, or that little fellow will see to it that you enjoy the enchanting sights of Siberia.

“Come now, surely a man as well travelled as you can endure a little teasing,” David said, when it was apparent Franz took offence.

“Did you hear anything in your travels about the proposed law to liquidate land owned by Germans?” her father asked, and Katya knew he had done so to steer the conversation away from Franz's discomfort.

David's young daughters and Sara had run on ahead, Sara anxious to show them the mausoleum. Franz and David were walking abreast, and Katya at her father's side. Nela and Gerhard came behind them, and Katya was amused to see that Nela had taken Gerhard by the hand. Although his ears had turned red over being treated like a child, he was politely attentive while Nela pointed out the various wildflowers growing in the dense vegetation along the way.

“Yes,” Franz said, eagerly taking up the topic. There were two laws proposed, apparently, one to prevent ownership of land by certain categories of Russian subjects, including German, and another to confiscate land presently owned and tenured by Germans.

“Don't you agree that the point should be made to the authorities that we're Russian, and not German?” Franz asked, phrasing his opinion in a question to avoid appearing disrespectful of the older men.

“Perhaps we should make the point that we're Dutch,” David said. “Because it would be difficult to convince them we're Russian when we don't want to be treated as Russians.”

“But we are, in every way,” Franz said.

“Not so. For example, only recently I came upon the brother of one of my Russian university companions. He looked rather downhearted when he told me of having to leave his engineering studies a year before completion. He was wearing the uniform of an ordinary foot soldier and earning a ruble a month.”

“And you know how highly regarded a soldier is,” Katya's father said to Franz. “He's held in such esteem that there are signs in civic parks warning
Dogs and Soldiers Forbidden
.” Katya heard the old energy in his voice, what was there when David used to visit.

“I didn't go to any parks,” Franz said lamely, by way of explanation.

“A soldier who fails to greet a superior in the proper way will be made to feel the butt of a rifle. In the face,” David said. Meanwhile, Mennonite men drew lots to see who would go off to alternate service in forestry camps run by co-religionists instead of having to go into the army. And if he could prove a hardship would be created by his absence, or if there should be a need for teachers, physicians and mill bosses which he might fill, the man could well find providence at his elbow, and not have to go to forestry camp.

“A well-placed payment of money can assure that a son will stay home,” David said.

An awkward moment of silence followed, in which Franz Pauls tugged at the collar of his shirt. No, he hadn't heard, he allowed. Then he sidestepped the issue and went on with what he did know, what he'd just experienced first-hand during his trip to the city.

“Most of the students involved in the strike at the Institute of Geology were Decembrists, likely,” Franz said.

“I take it that you're in no danger of becoming caught up in any uprising,” David said jovially, and clapped a hand on the young man's shoulder.

Katya was glad to see the smile pulling at a corner of her father's mouth. The tips of his boots were scuffed, and his trouser bottoms frayed. He hadn't worn his best for the conference, and had chosen not to eat with the other men at the noon meal, but at their own table. He took Katya by the hand now, and adjusted his stride to match her own.

“For sure, not. I know what I believe and stand for,” Franz said.

“And what is that?” David asked. He had tipped his hat to the back of his head, opened his collar and rolled his shirt sleeves, and looked as though he had never hurried for anything or anyone in his entire life.

The question startled Franz. “I stand for the monarchy, of course.” His voice trailed away, and then he added, “For what my father has taught me. As well as our church,” he said, as though for good measure.

“Good, good. Of course. Pacifism,” David said. “By arriving late you missed out on a lively discussion on that very topic.”

Her father laughed. “We all missed out on a lively discussion. I'd hardly call that brawl a discussion.”

“How can a person be for the monarchy, and at the same time not be willing to stand up for the monarchy?” David asked. “I know, of course, we pray for them, yes?” he said, answering his own question. “We give money to their war efforts, grow food, and make a good profit along the way, I might add. We build
podvods
for them to haul their weapons and the wounded, as we did in the Crimea. The monarchy is of the kingdom of this earth, I understand that. And we're about the business of the heavenly kingdom; at least, that's what we profess. We're only pilgrims on our way to our real home, aren't we? Russian pilgrims who sing ‘God Save Our Tsar' along with everyone else. It seems to me that, for pilgrims, some of us have become pretty set on staying here. We've acquired so many possessions along the way that there aren't enough wagons and horses to carry all of them. We may as well own up to it and stop thinking of ourselves as being strangers travelling in a strange land as we make our way to our heavenly home. We're here, but we keep saying we're not. It's a convenience, if you ask me.” He had stopped speaking to Franz, and seemed to be arguing with himself.

In the following silence, Katya's father released her hand. His eyelashes fluttered as he gazed at the back of David's head. When her father's patience was tried, he could speak with a bluntness. “No one is asking anyone to carry the millstone. If the weight of a person's earthly possessions is felt so strongly, then why doesn't a man just give away everything he owns, and make his load lighter? If a man's conscience bothers him, he should just come out and say sp, and not paint everyone with the same brush so as not to confront his own feelings of guilt,” her father said.

“I wish it were that simple.” David laughed, and Katya thought he'd somehow become smaller. He'd become a small man with a big hat tipped to the back of his head.

“Behind every tree there's a complication,” her father said, and Katya could tell that he wanted to say more, but there was Franz Pauls to consider, his neck poking out from his collar like a rooster's, eyes opened wide, as he took it in.

The silence was filled with the noisy tramping of feet, Gerhard breaking free of Nela's sisterly grasp and running on ahead. Katya was caught by a stiffness in Franz's voice as he asked, “So, Mr. Sudermann. May I ask then, what about you? Do you plan to take up a gun and fight for the fatherland if need be?”

David Sudermann's eyes followed his children running among the trees. “No, I do not. But I'm not going to cloak my decision in the high-minded language of religion. I'll call it what it is. Cowardliness. And what's more – you may as well know this, Peter,” he said. “If need be, I'll use what influence my brothers have in order to keep from being sent to work on a Red Cross train or ship. As far away from disease and danger as possible. There you have it. My confession.”