An officer who had just arrived from Erzeroum came on purpose to try to dissuade me from undertaking such a long and dangerous journey. He told me that even for him it had been awfully fatiguing; the roads were so horrible that the committee of the Red-Cross could not find it possible to send even one Sister of Mercy to Erzeroum. These descriptions of the state of the roads were certainly not encouraging, but nothing could shake my determination, I felt heroic and was prepared to brave all dangers and risk anything for Sergy’s sake, and no human powers should prevent me from starting at the first opportunity.
Oh, joy! Oh, rapture! A telegram had just been brought to me in which my husband announced that the preliminary discussions were settled, and that peace was definitely signed. It seemed almost too good to be true. I was happier than words can tell. This piece of good news spread through the town like wild fire. The cannons began to thunder, and the church-bells pealed merrily all day.
Soon after, a messenger from Erzeroum brought me an urgent letter from Sergy, telling me that he must remain in Erzeroum until the evacuation of our troops. He advised me to return to Tiflis until then, but instead of that I was determined to start for Erzeroum and rejoin my husband. I implored Mr. Danilevski to send me there with the first military conveyance, but better fortune awaited me: Mr. Danilevski was sent himself as a courier to Erzeroum, and having taken compassion on me, he proposed to take me with him in his post-cart, warning me that I must be ready to start at any moment. As there was but small chance that I would find a better occasion, I accepted gladly and began hastily to prepare for our journey. There was only one drawback, I couldn’t take Helena with me, there was no room for her in the post-cart. But I could not let such a chance slip, and was willing even to sacrifice Helena. The poor old woman entreated me with tears not to undertake this mad journey, but it was no time to show weakness, my courage seemed to have developed itself rapidly, for adversity is a great teacher; distance was nothing to me. I trusted my star and laughed at the most gigantic obstacles, and Helena had to submit to the painful necessity of letting me go. I did not allow myself to sleep that night lest I should not be awake when the hour came for starting. The next morning I received a note from General Kousminski; that gentleman, whom I had never known before, the chief of the military communications, extended a helping hand to me and proposed to take me with Helena in his comfortable travelling-coach. This was awfully generous of him and I hastened to accept his offer thanking him profusely. I was so happy I would have kissed everybody, but there was only Helena, so I kissed her. Dreading that long voyage for Helena I told her that I could very well do without her and proposed she should return to Tiflis, but the dear old woman protested hotly and said she was quite decided to follow me anywhere. It was all settled, we were to start next day at dawn. I went to bed radiously happy at the thought that on the morrow I should be far away from Kars, and closing my eyes, I departed to sweet dreamland, seeing myself already in my husband’s loving arms.
CHAPTER XVI
ON MY WAY TO ERZEROUM
At seven o’clock in the morning General Kousminski was at my door, and I started bravely for Erzeroum, full of happy hopes and expectations. A crowd of Turks gathered round our carriage, wishing us Godspeed.
For the first mile or two all went well, but soon there was an accident; the road was heavy and one of our horses slipped and fell down. It was not a good beginning, but we still had the worst before us, and a long way to go. We only made a hundred miles that day, the roads being shockingly bad, all covered with big stones over which we rumbled down, our carriage bouncing like a roasted chestnut. I tried to console myself with the thought that the way which led to “Paradise” was also covered with stones and strewed with pebbles. We stopped for the night in a small Turkish hamlet and continued our journey at dawn; the worst bit of it now began. The road which led to the next station was a terribly bad one; we had to abandon our comfortable coach and take a sledge. The road grew steeper with every mile; it was a succession of hills, one after the other. Up and down we went all the time, but I felt a wonderful access of courage at the thought that each mile drew me nearer to Sergy. I could already feel myself flying into his arms. In descending a terribly steep hill our sledge was upset and bang—there we were in a deep ditch! Happily we had come to no harm, and after having assured ourselves that we had no broken limbs, we remounted into our sledge and travelled on till sunset Dreading to be overtaken by darkness in the mountains, we made a halt in a village under the hospitable roof of Mr. Iliashenko, a Russian officer who took up his quarters there with some dozen soldiers. I was pretty well fagged out and hurried off to my room. It was so nice to sleep again like respectable people, between sheets, on our second night’s resting-place.
A most dreadful surprise awaited me in the morning. I was roused by Helena coming to tell me that General Kousminski was summoned back to Kars at once. The prospects of so long a journey without my protector was the most distressing thing that could befall me. The worst of all was that we were in danger of dying of starvation, for we were not supplied with provisions. The next stage was known to be a very risky one, and I had to make all the way on horseback. Helena had set out before in a peasant’s cart with an old military doctor who was also proceeding to Erzeroum, and to whose care General Kousminski had entrusted me. It was not nice at all to be left behind! Our horses were led up, but I couldn’t manage to climb into the saddle which one of the soldiers had lent me; the clumsily tied arch would not hold and I slipped down continually. I was growing quite desperate, when it occurred to Mr. Iliashenko to propose for me his transport-van, an enormous vehicle with a team of six horses. I climbed into it tremblingly, and off we went.
After crossing a bridge thrown over the “Arax,” we began to mount the slopes of the opposite bank, creeping along the high shelf roughly bedecked with fallen stones. Here we met a long caravan of camels; our horses took fright at them and drew back till we were almost on the very brink of a precipice, perhaps three hundred feet deep. Though Mr. Iliashenko made an attempt to hold me in I jumped out of the van and scrambled up the steep hill dabbling in the greasy mud flushed and breathless. Suddenly a happy idea struck Mr. Iliashenko, he proposed to me to mount his horse, saddled with a wide Cossack saddle. I settled myself down comfortably in it and went valiantly onwards. My anxious Helena awaited me at the next station. I was already beginning to feel General Kousminski’s absence, and now learned what it was to be desperately hungry. I was as a ravenous wolf, seeking what I might devour, but we had only a meagre luncheon of bread and cheese. Here I had to bid good-bye to Mr. Iliashenko, who proposed for me to keep his horse as far as Erzeroum, thinking he might be useful to me in dangerous places, too bad for carriages; he gave me, besides, a Cossack.
After many difficulties, we succeeded in reaching the next station. We were obliged to advance very slowly; it took nearly seven hours to get there, although the distance was only sixteen miles, for there was no road as the Europeans generally understand it. Our horses plunged in the snow up to their necks. We met on the road groups of soldiers returning to Kars, who seemed greatly astonished to meet a woman in these dull parts. It was almost dark when we reached a tiny village, where we stopped for the night in a dirty dairy-hut, and slept in the company of my brave little horse who shared all my mishaps. I had to lie down on a mat stretched upon the floor, and being tired out, I slept the sleep of the just, when at dawn an enormous tongue, trying to find my face, woke me. I soon realised that the tongue was my horse’s, who had freed himself from his bridle and came to bid me good-morning. When I got up I saw the snow falling heavily. We weren’t able to start before the following day until the snow-storm had passed away. A young officer on his way to Kars took shelter under the same roof with us, which helped me to while away the weary hours of waiting-time.