IV
No need to dwell upon Ian's efforts to enlist as a volunteer in the Tsar's army. Thousands and thousands of loyal Britons were being snubbed by their own government in the same way just then. Briton's rulers had even less excuse for their behavior than Russia, who at least had a large standing army to draw upon.
Russia needed no men, he was told. Perhaps, after many years, she would call on men over thirty to help her. But then, the war would be over in a few months. After being refused by the officer in charge of the military dépôt at Kutno, he went to Warsaw, hoping to find Roman, who knew a few Russians and might help him. But he learned at the Hotel Europe that the impetuous young man had left for St. Petersburg several days ago and omitted to say when he was coming back. Ian soon found out that his only chance of fighting would be with the Cossacks, to whom they were sending volunteers for the cavalry. To those whom he begged for admission he pointed out that he could ride straight and shoot straight, was sound as a nut and willing to do anything. One grizzled old Cossack colonel, reared on mare's milk, bred in the saddle, with not a spare ounce of flesh on his bones, gave his ample figure a keen and contemptuous glance.
"To the devil with riding gentlemen squires!" were his words, spoken in that strange Russian of the Don; but his tone said: "To the devil with all Poles!" He repeated his glance and asked:
"Can you ride without your saddle now?"
"I can."
"And without your bridle?"
"Yes."
The gruff warrior sought his eyes, which firmly met the gaze and with hostility, too; none have hated one another more bitterly for centuries than Pole and Cossack.
"And spring on the mare's back when she's galloping?"