and it writhed in pain. Dried blood crusted the coat of the poor creature’s abdomen.
Grigori rubbed his hands together and began to chant to himself. Then he put his hands gently upon the pup. I watched mesmerized as the animal responded coming back from a near death and walking away in perfect health.
My love for him grew in that moment.
I wanted to marry him. I begged him in fact, because I knew that our Kampania would be leaving Russia before the winter set in and I didn't want to leave without him.
I was only fourteen, he was eight years older.
When your family returns next year we will marry. He told me.
And I believed.
The morning that my father took his seat up at the front of our wagon and as he yelled out to the other families "good road" , I watched through the window as Grigori stood on the side of the street. It was a dirt path really and the dust flew up as the horses trotted and the wheels turned and we began our journey out of Russia before the cold weather snapped her icy fingers paralyzing Siberia.
He tipped his hat to me and my heart leapt as we rounded a corner and I could see him no more. Memories of our love hurt deep in my stomach as I thought of his eyes and his skin and his hair. We were moving at a fast speed now. My parents were singing old folk songs in Romany and all of the families were glad to be traveling again. The mood was festive as it always was when we were moving, but this time I was filled with sadness.
We traveled through Romania and Poland, then through Germany and back again. My father worked the gage in all of the small towns trading horses and my mother read cards. I too read but my heart was still back with Grigori and I had lost my accuracy in fortune telling.
When we came back to Northern Russia and then up through Siberia the following year I was overcome with excitement as I waited to see him.
I was a year older. I studied myself in the mirror and I was pleased to see that I had matured. As we had traveled from town to town I saw how men looked at me as I danced illuminated by the glow of the campfire, and I knew that I was beautiful.
For a week I could not find him. I searched the entire town but did not speak or ask anyone. Finally I had reached the end of my patience and so I went into a local tavern, which gypsy girls did not do, and I asked the proprietor if he knew of a man called Grigori Rasputin. The tavern was dark and men sat together on wooden stools drinking vodka. They stared at me and the looks in their eyes told me that they harbored dark thoughts. I shook off the fear that I had allowed into my thinking and I waited for an answer.
Not only did the owner know Grigori, but he knew his wife and daughter.
I left the establishment in a daze.
Grigori was married.
I stumbled back to my father's vurdun and as the others slept in their eiderdowns under the stars I stayed inside and cried until I felt that I had no more tears. My throat ached.
I watched through the window until dawn, as the moon spread a light like a silver ribbon upon the flowered blankets strewn across the ground.
Grigori found me the following day.
I wanted to destroy him.
Chapter Three…..
“I
always kept a hunting knife secured beneath my blanket.
When I heard him approaching, and I had no doubt that it was him, I reached beneath the eiderdown and my fingers clutched the cool metal.
As he came closer my heart beat in rhythm with his footsteps. I had every intention of killing him.
Standing quickly with the knife in my hand, I raised it ready to plunge it deeply into his unfaithful heart.
He saw me coming at him. He did not move, in fact he didn't flinch. With his right hand he reached and took hold of my wrist. Fight as I might the knife dropped to the ground. With my fists I beat upon his chest as hard as I was able. Tears stung my eyes and covered my face, but still I fought. I continued to throw blows at him until he took me into
Grigori rubbed his hands together and began to chant to himself. Then he put his hands gently upon the pup. I watched mesmerized as the animal responded coming back from a near death and walking away in perfect health.
My love for him grew in that moment.
I wanted to marry him. I begged him in fact, because I knew that our Kampania would be leaving Russia before the winter set in and I didn't want to leave without him.
I was only fourteen, he was eight years older.
When your family returns next year we will marry. He told me.
And I believed.
The morning that my father took his seat up at the front of our wagon and as he yelled out to the other families "good road" , I watched through the window as Grigori stood on the side of the street. It was a dirt path really and the dust flew up as the horses trotted and the wheels turned and we began our journey out of Russia before the cold weather snapped her icy fingers paralyzing Siberia.
He tipped his hat to me and my heart leapt as we rounded a corner and I could see him no more. Memories of our love hurt deep in my stomach as I thought of his eyes and his skin and his hair. We were moving at a fast speed now. My parents were singing old folk songs in Romany and all of the families were glad to be traveling again. The mood was festive as it always was when we were moving, but this time I was filled with sadness.
We traveled through Romania and Poland, then through Germany and back again. My father worked the gage in all of the small towns trading horses and my mother read cards. I too read but my heart was still back with Grigori and I had lost my accuracy in fortune telling.
When we came back to Northern Russia and then up through Siberia the following year I was overcome with excitement as I waited to see him.
I was a year older. I studied myself in the mirror and I was pleased to see that I had matured. As we had traveled from town to town I saw how men looked at me as I danced illuminated by the glow of the campfire, and I knew that I was beautiful.
For a week I could not find him. I searched the entire town but did not speak or ask anyone. Finally I had reached the end of my patience and so I went into a local tavern, which gypsy girls did not do, and I asked the proprietor if he knew of a man called Grigori Rasputin. The tavern was dark and men sat together on wooden stools drinking vodka. They stared at me and the looks in their eyes told me that they harbored dark thoughts. I shook off the fear that I had allowed into my thinking and I waited for an answer.
Not only did the owner know Grigori, but he knew his wife and daughter.
I left the establishment in a daze.
Grigori was married.
I stumbled back to my father's vurdun and as the others slept in their eiderdowns under the stars I stayed inside and cried until I felt that I had no more tears. My throat ached.
I watched through the window until dawn, as the moon spread a light like a silver ribbon upon the flowered blankets strewn across the ground.
Grigori found me the following day.
I wanted to destroy him.
Chapter Three…..
“I
always kept a hunting knife secured beneath my blanket.
When I heard him approaching, and I had no doubt that it was him, I reached beneath the eiderdown and my fingers clutched the cool metal.
As he came closer my heart beat in rhythm with his footsteps. I had every intention of killing him.
Standing quickly with the knife in my hand, I raised it ready to plunge it deeply into his unfaithful heart.
He saw me coming at him. He did not move, in fact he didn't flinch. With his right hand he reached and took hold of my wrist. Fight as I might the knife dropped to the ground. With my fists I beat upon his chest as hard as I was able. Tears stung my eyes and covered my face, but still I fought. I continued to throw blows at him until he took me into
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