Side Trail
Dnieper Pass
Hunter Liguore
“We’ll not spare either our souls, or our bodies to get freedom, and we’ll prove that we brother’s are Kozak kin.” Palvo Chubynsky, 1863
The sky was clear over the borderland, where golden hills, covered in sunflower and lavender, could be found in plenty. From the alpine forests and snowcapped mountains, down through the grasslands, the Dnieper River traveled south, cutting a natural boundary through the east and west. The land near the river was highly prized for its black, fertile soil. Farmers fought to keep their land, despite Tartar raids, or the high taxes imposed on them by noble landlords.
Tucked away beside the dense cypress forest, past the castle ruins, through the grove of apple trees, there lived a family of peasant farmers. Two brothers, Erich and Semerin, tilled a new tract of land to plant a crop of watermelons. Semerin, older by a year, wore a gun strapped to his back, as he planted seeds in the smooth rows. Erich, kept a pouch of iron darts fastened to his belt, always fearful of a raid, as he steered horse and till across the plot.
The sound of barking dogs, told Erich and Semerin there were visitors to their father’s farm. They left their work, and hurried to the cabin. They found their mother’s spinning left unattended on the chair. There was no sight of their two younger sisters, who had been making flower garlands on the porch. Nor could they find their father in the barn where he had been salting meat. A gunshot rang out. The two brothers headed toward the cattle stables, where they believed the shot had been fired.
Surrounding the stable was the rich landlord, Ostrozky, sitting on horseback, accompanied by a half-dozen armed militiamen, who held the family at gunpoint. Lying in the dirt, covered in blood, was a brown heifer. Semerin raised his gun to shoot, when Erich stopped him. “No, you’ll only make matters worse,” he said, pushing the gun away.
“Now is not the time to be weak, Erich,” said Semerin, who persisted.
In seconds, it didn’t matter who was right or wrong, as the militiamen, took Semerin and Erich prisoner, and led them to the stables with their other family members. Mother was frightened, and held her daughters close. Father was forced to his knees and brought before the landlord.
“I allow you to live here, peasant,” began Ostrozky, “and I expect that you’ll obey my rules.” Ostrozky wore a silk summer shirt and rustic pants. His face was clean-shaven, and his flaxen hair neatly groomed. “Owed to me are six head of cattle.”
“But, we just paid a dozen swine, and my boys,” pleaded Father, “hauled three cords of wood to your ranch.”
Ostrozky demounted the horse, and backhanded Father. “Insubordinate! Are you trying to tell me how to run my land?”
Semerin jumped forward with raised fists, but once again, Erich pulled him back. “Six cattle will only leave us with four,” shouted Semerin. “That’s robbery!”
“You’re lucky I allow you to live here at all.” Ostrozky got back on his horse. “You have until the end of the week to deliver what’s owed to me.” Ostrozky glanced at the girls. Each wore an embroidered shirt, with flower wreaths in their long, russet hair. “As a precaution, to ensure your loyalty, I will take the two of them.” He pointed to the girls, who cried in horror. “This way there won’t be any mistakes in delivering the goods. No cavalier ideas of an attack.”
Father begged, “Don’t take my girls, Ostrozky. I will pay what’s owed to you. I’m a good farmer, and have always been obedient. Leave them.” His words fell on deaf ears, as the militiamen snatched the girls from their mother’s arms.
Ostrozky and his men rode off in a cloud of black dust. In a flash, Semerin raced to the barn to fetch a horse, and rode after them, armed with his musket.
“Go after him, Erich,” said Father. “You’re a better rider than me. Semerin will get himself killed, and possibly your sisters too, if he’s not stopped.” Father cradled his weeping wife. “We’ll pay what he asks, though it’s robbery, and I’ll get my daughters back.”
Erich saddled a horse and rode after Semerin. He followed his trail across the prairie, in the direction of several farmsteads. He crossed over a small brook, where he saw a wagon filled with jugs of beer and cartons of honeycomb. He recognized the driver, Kateryna, with her brother, and pulled up along side.
Erich flushed when Kateryna looked up at him. He had been in love with Kateryna since they first met as children during Easter mass, some ten years. He had hoped to take her hand in marriage next year, when his father promised to give him his own piece of land.
“Erich,” she said, pulling up the reins. “I thought you were working the fields today.” Kateryna wore a summer petticoat and apron, along with a strand of copper beads around her neck, and a bandeau on her head. “What brings you out this way?”
“Looking for my brother.” Erich wiped the sweat and dirt from his brow. “The landlord came round making demands. You better warn your father. He took my sisters as ransom, and who knows what else he’ll do. Semerin went off to stop him, but if I know him, he’ll get himself killed.”
“I’ll go at once, and abandon my trip to the market.” Kateryna bid her brother to stay vigilant, which he did by loading an arrow into his bow.
“I must go.” Erich said. “I’ll come check on you later.” He galloped down the trail and disappeared through the chestnut trees.
Semerin’s trail stopped near the deserted monastery tucked away in the trees. Erich tied his horse to a tree, and cut through the long grass and rhododendrons. When he heard voices, he ducked behind an old pagan statue, and watched. Ostrozky’s militia had Semerin in a chokehold and was beating him. Erich waited, guilty he didn’t act to help him. Erich knew if it were the other way around, Semerin would’ve charged in to save him. He took out an iron dart, and tried to steady it in his hand. He threw it, but it flew long, missing the militiamen altogether. Before long, the militiamen saddled up, and rode off, leaving Semerin behind.
Erich found his brother’s body badly bruised and bleeding. He dragging him back to his horse, and took him to the nearest farm, which happened to be Kateryna’s. Once there, Erich found the farm shut-up, and quiet. He called out for Kateryna, who came out of hiding with the rest of her family. They were happy to see one another, and exchanged news. Kateryna’s mother saw to Semerin’s wounds, while Kateryna served Erich a bowl of porridge. He ate the food down, asking for more.
When nightfall came, Erich returned with his brother back to his farm. Before he left Kateryna, he bid her to keep safe, and to call on him if she needed anything. In the back of his mind, he wondered what use he would be to her if she did need help. What if it was her farm in danger? Would Erich be willing to take a stand against the landlord?
The following morning, as the sun canvassed the fields of wheat, Erich and his father readied six heads of cattle to take to the landlord. Semerin watched from a chair on the porch. His face was blackened and scarred, and his arm was in a sling.
On the horizon, a cloud of black dust formed, and caught Erich’s eye. It meant horse riders. He left the cattle, and went with his father and mother inside the house and hid in a secret passageway beneath the kitchen floorboards. Semerin refused to cower in hiding, believing no worse could be done to him. “I’ll have my dignity,” he yelled, as his family retreated.
As the horse riders came into view, Semerin saw that it wasn’t the landlord and his militia, nor was it the scavenging Tartars come to raid their fields. Instead it was the Cossacks, free warriors, that lived beyond the steppes, up high in the mountains, past the Dnieper pass. Semerin told his family that it was safe to come out.
The Cossacks circled the farm on horse with wagons of goods to trade. They had furs and fish, and needed to replenish their supply of meat, grains, lead, powder, and grease. Erich joined Semerin on the porch, while his father went out to meet the Hetman, the Cossack leader, a bulky man with a red swath of hair, who went by the name, Pid Kova. Father welcomed the Cossacks to his farm, and invited them to rest their horses.
Pid Kova strode up to the porch. His menacing height towered over Erich and Semerin. On his belt he was armed with a sabre on one side, a pistol on the other. On his back was a musket. Laced to his boots were iron darts. He wore a gold earring in one ear, and a straggly beard. His shirt was made of tanned hides, and he wore no armor.
“Some one done you in?” He addressed Semerin. “Not this little guy.” He pointed to Erich, laughing.
“An entire militia took me on,” Semerin boasted. “I almost got the better of them.”
“A fighter, I see.” Pid Kova leaned against the pole and drank his share of water. “We Cossacks live by the way of the gun and sabre, and for this we are free. We take orders from no one. We owe debt to no one. We live only for ourselves.”
Erich watched the glee return to Semerin’s eyes. Finally, Semerin found someone with his courage and willingness to fight. Semerin recounted yesterday’s events, adding how his family held him back from taking revenge. “Our sisters are still held ransom,” said Semerin, almost seeking pity from Pid Kova.
“It’s no secret,” began Pid Kova, “that when a man decides to be a farmer, he is giving up his life. He willingly becomes a slave to his landlord. This noble looks upon your family the same way he would his cattle. For him, there is no difference. Both serve him as a method of income. This noble will take and take, until he has your soul and life. It is better that you leave now, go freely, before anymore is taken, before you forget the way back to freedom.”
Erich didn’t want to hear anymore of Pid Kova’s gallant talk. He needed to get the cattle to the landlord to release his sisters. He said nothing, and stepped off the porch.
“And what about you?” Pid Kova called after Erich. “Are you a fighter? Maybe you and your brother would like to join my posse.”
“No,” said, Semerin, before Erich could answer. “He’ll never be a fighter.”
“Oh, I see,” said Pid Kova. He waited to give Erich time to come to his own defense.
“He wouldn’t last a week with your army,” said Semerin.
“Our way of life is not easy, but it’s free,” began Pid Kova, “But with every thing, there’s always a trial, a test, to see if you can make it as one of us.”
“I’ll do it,” said Semerin. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get off this farm.”
“It’s not for everyone, and not everyone makes it. Some die trying. The important part is that they died trying; they died free.”
“Tell me what I have to do.” Semerin stood up, slowly, still in pain, and lifted his musket.
“No, Semerin, you can’t leave us now.” Erich didn’t want to interfere. He wanted to go about his business. But he was always the one to keep Semerin in line. “What about your sisters? And who’ll be here to help me take care of the farm?”
“You don’t need me, Erich.” Semerin turned to Pid Kova. “Tell me what I have to do to prove myself.”
“Simple. You must survive the climb through Dnieper Pass.”
Semerin was silent. He knew the treachery of the pass, its dangerous rapids, its high cliffs, and its winding summits. Many a man died trying to cross it.
“Cross the pass, and I’ll make you a Cossack.”
“I’ll do it,” said Semerin, raising his bruised chin. “I’ll do it all right.”
Erich said nothing, though he was infuriated. He would’ve loved to ride the prairie free of responsibility. But he knew it wasn’t realistic. They had their own way of life to preserve. He couldn’t abandon his father. Besides, he prided himself on being a loyal son. So what if Semerin didn’t understand.
Erich stormed off to the stables, and finished tying up the cattle, and then headed out. Before he reached the end of the drive, he saw Pid Kova and his Cossacks ascending the hills and bound for the mountains. Semerin came to him on horseback.
“Come with me, brother. Come with me, and let’s be free. Free of all this.”
“You go, Semerin. Your spirit was never meant to be harnessed. I’ll stay and look after father.” Erich gave his blessing, knowing that’s what Semerin needed to hear.
Semerin rode off for the hills. Erich watched for a moment. Part of him wanted to go. He looked back at the restless cattle and pressed on to fulfill his duty.
The sky overhead was deep blue, despite occasional sun showers that cooled the borderlands. Erich followed a dirt trail through the spruce forest. Once he passed the windmill, he knew he was close to Ostrozky’s ranch. Armed militiamen near the wooden church met him. His cattle were confiscated, and he was taken to the landlord.
Ostrozky came out of a regal mansion. He was dressed fashionably. “Bring him closer,” he ordered his guard. “And the cattle.”
“My sisters,” Erich said, slightly winded from the punch the militiaman inflicted. “Where are they?”
“They’ll be returned in due time,” said Ostrozky. “First, you owe me another six head of cattle.”
“What?”
“That’s right. These six pay off what you owed for last year.”
“We don’t have another six to part with. We’ll starve.” Erich tried to stand. He wanted to fight back.
“Six cattle and you get your sisters back. I’ll give you a month to comply.” Ostrozky motioned to his militiamen to take Erich away.
They led Erich to the end of the property, and tossed him from the moving horse. Erich broke his fall, and rolled into the grass and dirt, only suffering minor pain. He returned to his father with a slight limp, bearing the difficult news.
Two weeks had gone by before Erich and his father had enough funds to purchase two head of cattle, bringing him up to six, to pay the landlord. They sold many of their stored goods, like salted beef, jarred pickles, brewed mead, breads, and grains. Many of his neighbors, knowing of Father’s hardship paid a more than fair price. In the end, however, it still wasn’t enough, forcing Father to chip in from his meager savings.
Storm clouds brewed in the East, as Erich set off across the prairie to deliver the second batch of cattle. He passed Kateryna’s farmstead, hoping to get a glimpse of her, but the clothes were in off the line and the doors and windows shut up for the imminent rain. While he walked Erich thought about the moment he would finally ask for Kateryna’s hand in marriage. He tried imagining her face. Would she be surprised, happy? Would she answer him with a yes?
When Erich passed the windmill near Ostrozky ranch, the rain started to fall. At the sight of Ostrozky’s militiamen approaching, Erich tucked his iron darts into his boot for safekeeping. The militiamen met him at the gate, covered in hooded cloaks to keep out the rain. They escorted Erich to a barn on the property, where Erich was tied up to a pole, and whipped, then beaten, nearly losing consciousness.
Time had passed. The rain outside had stopped. Ostrozky arrived at the barn. “You’re early,” he said, pushing Erich on his back with his foot. “I gave you a month, but it seems I was too gracious. You must have gold buried under the cabin. Poor people would’ve needed the month. Instead, you come early, and now my interest in your farm has been piqued further.”
“I only want my sisters back.” Erich’s voice was weak.
“No deal.”
Before Ostrozky could say another word, Erich used his last bit of his strength to charge him. The attack was feeble, but he managed to scrape Ostrozky’s face with his nails, causing him to bleed slightly.
“Insolent!” Ostrozky was furious. “The punishment for an attack on a landlord is death. Death by hanging. Get the ropes!”
The militiamen jumped at Ostrozky’s commands. Erich forced a stand, and pushed his way toward the door. Two militiamen tried to stop him. Erich reached into his boot and grabbed a dart. He jabbed it into the militiaman’s chest, and pushed him into the other, and ran for cover. First, he hid under the chicken coup, where he washed his face in the murky water to revive himself. Next, he backtracked to the stable, as the militiamen spread out over the ranch looking for him. He mounted a horse, and galloped out of the barn, heading toward the trees.
Ostrozky men were quick to follow on horseback. Erich gave chase past the wooden church, the windmill, and over the prairie. He led them away from his farm. Ostrozky’s militia was thick in numbers, and soon, Erich was outnumbered and cornered.
He had made it as far as the abandoned monastery. The ancient statue of the Mother-of-All-Living-Things had turned dark grey from the rain. Erich abandoned the horse and started off on foot. Through the open cement walls, past a graveyard, he ran with Ostrozky’s men following close behind. Gunshots were fired, and arrows sailed after him. As Erich dodged the attack, he dove headfirst over a precipice. He landed in the tall grasses, near the mouth of a cavern. Bruised from the fall, he dragged his body to the cave. The militiamen continued to fire at him, giving Erich no alternative but to retreat into the dark, cavernous passageway.
Erich felt his way along the corridor. The light only went so far, until the darkness blinded him. He could hear the militiamen’s voices echoing throughout. Once or twice they fired, the bullets ricocheting, but the men never followed. Erich went a little further, and stumbled into a crypt. His hand felt the wood coffins outlining the wall. Rats scurried and squealed underfoot. Exhausted, Erich slid with his back against the wall. His body pained him. He closed his eyes and listened for the militiamen that never came.
It was nighttime when Erich resurfaced from the cave. He climbed up to the ruins and found it safe from Ostrozky’s men. He walked by the light of the moon toward home, running occasionally when he could manage.
As he crossed the last leg of the prairie, Erich noticed the horizon looked bright, as if the sun was coming up. Dark smoke and billowing fire spiraled into the air, frightening Erich to the core.
He ran. He ran even though his legs were tired. He passed fleeing horses and roaming chickens. By the time Erich reached his father’s farm, the fire had spread to every building. The cabin, the barns, the storehouse, even the fences were alight with fire. Erich called for his parents. He searched everywhere for them. His eyes burned, and the smoke choked his lungs, but still he hunted for them. Finally, when he had given up all hope, he remembered their hiding place under the kitchen floorboards now engulfed. He tried to enter the inferno, screaming their names. Slowly, as despair set in, Erich back away.
Erich fled to the only place he could think ofKateryna’s farm. He followed the familiar path, a shortcut, through the apple orchard, across the meadow, and over the rolling wheat covered hills.
Lanterns lit the main cabin and barn. Erich approached with caution when he heard the rumble of horses galloping. From the wooden trees, Erich watched, as Ostrozky and his militia surrounded Kateryna’s family. It was a familiar sight, taking him back to the first day Ostrozky had showed up on his father’s farm demanding more dues. Kateryna’s father and brother were beat down. Erich listened as Ostrozky threatened to take the farm if they did not pay more in taxes. And just as he had taken Erich’s sisters for security, Ostrozky apprehended Kateryna.
Erich cried out without thinking. The militiamen jumped into action, and hunted him. Arrows and bullets cut through the brush. Erich took cover on his belly. He slid down an incline to get away, forced to flee. The last thing Erich heard before he disappeared through the spruce trees was Kateryna calling his name.
Erich fled toward the mountains. He had nowhere else to go. He had grown up hearing the stories of the mountain men who had made their home away from civilization, far from the noble lords. He didn’t know the way. He only knew that somewhere out there was his brother with a band of warriors. He would find Semerin, and he would tell him he had been wrong not to fight, and that now he was willing.
Just before dawn, Erich lost the militiamen and crossed the river in Dneiper Pass. He curled up in the soft grasses by the river and tried to sleep. When he closed his eyes all he could see was fire. Fire and smoke. Occasionally, he thought he heard the faint screams of his father and mother calling his name.
The sun crept over the mountains in the Dnieper Pass. Erich climbed up the rocky precipice with care. He encountered all types of predators, from the merciless mountain lion, that gave him chase, to the mighty bear that nearly took his life. At night, gnats and mosquitoes taunted him. Food grew scarce the higher he climbed. He subsisted by scraping the lichens from rocks, and by drinking water that coursed through the crevices.
He traveled toward the sun, moving throughout the day, and resting at night. The ridges led him to a high platform, overlooking the alpine meadow filled with golden flowers. In the distance, the Dnieper River snaked through the valley. Erich followed a trail through a narrow ravine. Falling rocks jeopardized his footing, and the hot sun burned and blistered his skin.
Erich arrived at an overpass that would take him to the other side of the river. But the bridge had been destroyed, forcing Erich to cross the hazardous waters, or abandon his mission. He had come too far now. He had to try harder. He needed to find Semerin. Together, he believed, they would set things right.
Across the protruding rocks, Erich leapt across the river rapids. The water was cool and vicious, the rocks slick. He balanced between stones, and jumped a great distance. His foot slipped, and his body plunged into the river, where he was dragged downstream. Erich fought against the current, to reach the embankment on the opposite side. The water choked him, as he was dragged under, and spit out against the jagged rocks.
The current pulled him along. The sound of the waterfall grew closer. It was now or never. Erich reached out to a floating log, and used it to give him leverage, as he shimmied closer and closer to the bank. He caught hold of a large rock, and pulled his body up, out of the water. He caught is breath, and saw the gash on his leg paining him. Drenched and weary, Erich pressed on, jumping to one last rock, and then onto dry land. There he fell into the grasses, and didn’t wake until morning.
Storm clouds covered the open sky with ash and grey. Erich found himself on a cot in a barracks. He heard light bantermen playing a hand of cardsand the soft melody of a bandura playing nearby. On the far wall hung a tapestry of a blue trident, the Cossack trademark, and their motto: Fight and you shall win. His leg and hand had been bandaged, and a plate of cabbage rolls sat on a tin plate on the table next to him. He grabbed the food and gobbled it up, and emptied the mug of Carpathian herb tea.
His movement stirred the men. One of them, a tall fellow, with a single lock of black hair, and a long mustache, sabre belted to his waist, approached him. His name was Braat.
“You’ve found the camp of the Cossack, home to the legendary Pid Kova, known for his daring and exploits, and his strength. He can bend a horseshoe with one hand,” Braat boasted. “And he can survive in the dead of winter without so much as a sheepskin coat or a pair of leather boots.”
A Cossack at the table chimed in, “It would take twenty men to take Pid Kova down, and still he’d come up fighting like a tiger.”
Erich asked about his brother, Semerin, and described him to Braat.
“I recall seeing a man climbing the steppes, but no one by this name has made it through the pass.”
“Are you sure?” Erich entreated, worried now over Semerin’s wellness.
“I’ll take you to Pid Kova. Maybe he can tell you for certain.”
Outside, the camp was full of activity. A high, wooden fence surrounded a small village, where merchants sold wares. Tanners, butchers, and blacksmiths worked their trade. A wooden church stood in the center. Young boys, barely fit to walk, were set on unshod ponies, and taught to ride. Women collected duck eggs from a coup, while others tended to fruit gardens.
Without warning, gunfire broke out just beyond the fence, while a shower of arrows descended on the camp. “Take cover,” a Cossack warrior shouted.
Within moments a band of armed horse riders, including Pid Kova, left the compound to meet the enemy. Erich hid behind a wagon. “What’s happening?”
“Tartars,” said Braat. “I have to get to the canons.” Braat disappeared through the disorder, toward the outer wall. Erich waited, and only moved when an arrow touched down, nearly hitting him in the leg. He joined Braat on the wall.
“Help me,” Braat called, handing him a piece of flint, and an unlit torch. “Strike until you get a flame.”
Erich did has he was told. Braat loaded a saltpeter mixture into the canon. Beyond the wall, Tartar warriors, clad in leather cloaks and turbans, armed with lance and spear, circled the camp. The Tartars let out their warrior cries and their horses pounded the earth. Pid Kova led a rampage into the heart of the attack. Tartars fell under the blade of his heavy sabre.
Once the torch was lit, Braat set-off the canon. The explosion deafened Erich, momentarily. The Tartar horses scattered, but the army wasn’t deterred. Further, the Tartars had managed to climb into the compound on an unmanned portion of the wall. Soon, Cossacks and Tartars were fighting hand-to-hand. Merchants were looted, and goods were stolen. Reinforcement arrived, as the camp bell was rung, and the barracks emptied with more warriors. Before long, the Cossacks retook their fortress, taking Tartar prisoners, while the army sounded a retreat.
Pid Kova let out a wail of victory. His men cheered with raised guns and sabres as they watched the Tartar army disappear across the steppe. Erich helped move the wounded. Merchants cleaned shop. Prisoners were escorted away. By nightfall, a victory bonfire was lit, and freedom songs were sung.
Erich found Pid Kova surrounded by a party of women. Vodka and bread was passed around and shared.
“I remember you, kid,” said Pid Kova. “The brother who would not fight. What has changed to bring you to my clan?”
“The noble lord killed my family,” began Erich. His stomach turned, remembering. His mind ran over the faces of his parents, and of Kateryna, wherever she might be. “I came for my brother. He had joined your posse.”
“Ah, yes,” said Pid Kova. “But he did not make the pass. Only a true warrior does. My men attest to your daring, and tell me you made it across. As I made the promise to your brother, I will make the same to you. You are welcome here. You’ll learn the way of the gun and sabre, and serve in my army. Free you’ll live all the days of your life.”
As the embers and ash ascended into the night sky, the Cossacks raised their mugs and toasted to Erich, the newest Tovarish, or comrade. Erich sat at the fire, silently. He watched as families gathered, and lovers disappeared into dark corners for a night of lovemaking. It only made him yearn for his old life. Moreover, he filled with fury toward the noble lord that took it all away. But the drink made his head dizzy, and the fight fell away. Soon, he was laid out on a canvas bedroll, and drifted off sleep; the bandura played a sad song to make the strongest man weep.
When morning came, Erich sought Pid Kova, and asked him to loan him a horse and gun. He saw Pid Kova’s interest, and explained further that he needed to find his brother.
“We are all your brothers, Erich. We are kin, now. Take what you need, a horse, a weapon, supplies. No matter where you go, your brothers are with you.”
Erich thanked him, and started to leave, when Pid Kova stopped him. “Last we saw your brother, Semerin, he was at the Cypress Crest. You’ll most likely find him in the village not far from there.”
Erich found Braat waiting for him at the stables. Two horses were ready with a pack, gun, and saddle.
“Where you go, I go,” said Braat. “It’s Pid Kova’s wish that you don’t go alone.”
They set off as the sun climbed over the steppes. A gentle breeze kept them cool as they rode. Braat led them down the valley through a secret trail, one that went underground, and over high cliffs.
By nightfall, they made camp near Cypress Crest, outside of the village, where burial mounds of an unremembered battle littered the land. They made a fire and ate a ration of salted fish. Braat kept first watch, while Erich slept. Tartar raids were always possible, and then the added threat of the cavalrythe Russian infantry, stationed at watch-posts along the Borderland, that looked for outlaw Cossacks traveling in small numbers.
A rain shower drenched the land, causing the trees and shrubbery to look even greener. In the village, Erich and Braat traded salted fish for a jug of hot Carpathian tea and warm bread, and asked questions to locate Semerin. Within an hour, they were instructed to go to a farm on the opposite side of town, past the silversmith and tanner.
Braat stayed hidden in the trees, and kept watch, as Erich rode to the stables looking for Semerin. Inside a barn, grooming a horse, Erich found him. He noticed immediately the tired, broken look in his eyes, the dark circles, and the wan look of his face.
“How did you find me?” Semerin asked, at first surprised, then joyful to see Erich.
“It wasn’t easy, but I need you. I need your help to right a wrong.” Erich filled Semerin in on the violence done to their parents, and the loss of the farm.
Semerin sat on a stool, a look of defeat in his eyes. “It’s probably my fault for trying to bully Ostrozky. I should’ve kept my tongue, and never left.”
“No, Semerin,” said Erich. “I was the one mistaken. If we had fought together, and protected what was ours, it might still be here.”
“But it’s too late now. It’s over. Ostrozky won.” Semerin took up the brush again and started working.
Erich stood across from him, pleading, “No brother, we can make up for our mistakes. We can fight against Ostrozky together. We can avenge our parent’s lives. Our sisters may still be alive, and Kateryna, too. They need us. As brothers united, we can do no wrong.”
Erich watched the fight return to Semerin’s eyes. Slowly, the brush dropped from his hand and in a flash, Semerin grabbed the musket from the wall and cocked it. “Let’s do it.”
Erich smiled. “As the Cossacks say, fight and we shall win.” He helped Semerin saddle the horse, and together, with Braat, they rode at top speeds toward home.
It took nearly a week to reach Ostozky’s ranch. During the day they cased out the place. Much to Erich and Semerin’s relief they saw their sisters being escorted to a small cabin near the center, by the sheep stables. Erich was worried when he didn’t see Kateryna, but didn’t let it show.
Braat sketched out a plan of attack in the dirt. Two would go down the left side, while the other took the right. Each was assigned a militiaman to take out. They talked through different strategies, and decided to wait until nightfall.
The moon was bright and nearly full, as Erich slid down the grassy slope, armed with a musket. Semerin and Braat went down on the left side. The ranch was quiet. Militiamen watched from a tower. Others patrolled the area. Two guards kept watch near the cabin where the sisters were kept.
The element of surprise was with Erich as he lunged at a guard near the shack, and slit his throat with his own knife. He dragged the body behind the structure, and went after the second guard, but as he took the corner, the guard was waiting with his gun pointed to kill. Erich had no choice but to surrender.
The alarm was sounded. Braat and Semerin fired at will, taking several militiamen down before they were forced to retreat. Braat made it to the hills, while Semerin was caught and shackled.
The two brothers were thrown into an iron cell until morning, when they were paraded out in front of Ostrozky. The brothers were given a good thrashing, until Ostrozky ordered an end.
“I knew if I waited long enough, you’d come back,” said Ostrozky, lifting Erich’s head by the hair. “I’ve not forgotten your transgression, nor your punishment.” Behind Ostrozky, a six-foot tall militiaman stepped forward with two long ropes. “I had these made especially for you.” He laughed. “Take them away.”
By noon, Erich and Semerin were taken to a tree on the outskirts of the ranch, where two ropes dangled from the tree. The nooses were put around their necks. Erich spoke first to Semerin. “No regrets, now.”
“None,” said Semerin.
“Then we die in peace.”
Ostrozky watched with a smile on his face. He gave the signal, and Semerin was the first to be lifted. Immediately, he started to choke.
Erich closed his eyes. “Be strong, brother.”
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, killing the militiaman holding the rope. Semerin fell to the ground, gasping for air.
A battle cry sounded. From the cover of the trees, a band of Cossacks, led by Pid Kova, descended on the militia. Ostrozky fled on horse back to the ranch, while his militiamen fired on the Cossacks.
Pid Kova called out to Erich, as he rode by. “We brothers stick together.”
Braat came out of the clearing and released the brothers from their shackles. He armed them, and together they gave chase after Ostrozky and his men.
Back at the ranch, a shootout took place. Pid Kova led an attack into the heart of the ranch, ordering his men to set fire to the buildings. Soon, women and children began to flee, adding more to the havoc.
Erich and Semerin made their way to the cabin for their sisters. Braat covered them as they ran from building to building.
Semerin went hand-to-hand with the guard, as Erich kicked the door in. Huddled in the corner of the room were his younger sisters. Beside them, much to Erich’s surprise, was his father and mother. “You’re alive!” Erich ran into his parent’s arms. “I thought you died in the fire.”
Father said, “Ostrozky’s men took us captive, and made us watch, as they lit our home on fire.”
Semerin joined them, and embraced his father.
With tears of joy, Father said, “I knew my boys would come. I knew you’d come. I knew above all else that you’d make it right.”
“But where’s Kateryna?” asked Erich, looking around the room.
“Ostrozky keeps her locked up in the big house.” Father pointed to the mansion.
“Semerin, you take them to safety. I’m going after her.” Erich dashed across the dusty terrain, taking cover when needed to avoid being hit by bullets.
The front door was open. He cocked his musket, and stepped inside. At the end of a long hall, Erich saw Kateryna. He called out to her. She cried out, as Ostrozky took her by the arm and dragged her away.
Erich chased after him. He found Ostrozky outside loading Kateryna into a wagon. He aimed his gun, but Ostrozky put a knife to Kateryna’s throat. “Put the gun down,” said Ostrozky.
Erich kept the musket on his shoulder, and took aim. “No,” he said firmly. “My aim’s good enough to put a bullet in your head. The only thing holding me back is the thought of your blood ruining her dress.” Erich saw the fear in Ostrozky’s eyes.
Ostrozky make a quick grab for his gun. Erich took the shot. Ostrozky fell backwards, dead.
Erich ran to Kateryna. He kissed her, and held her close. “Marry me,” he said, taking the horses reins.
“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “Yes, yes, yes.” They kissed again, then rode toward the main gates and joined his family. The gunfire had quieted down. The militiamen, seeing Ostrozky dead, abandoned the ranch. Pid Kova’s men looted the place for all its worth.
On the hillside, near the main gates, Pid Kova and Braat rode out to meet Erich. “Don’t forget your brothers,” Pid Kova said. “We may call on you from time to time.”
“Any time,” said Erich, and shook his hand.
Pid Kova led his Cossacks over the hilltop, through the meadow, toward the horizon. Erich tugged the reins, steering the wagon toward home.
“We’ve got a farm to rebuild,” said his Father.
“And a crop to replant,” added Semerin.
Erich pulled Kateryna closer. “And don’t forget a wedding to plan.” Erich turned to Semerin, who smiled, and patted him on the back, as if to say, it would all be all right.
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