Men of Winter

Chapter XIX

'Consider the plot of the conniving gods—to separate us, in the splendor of our youth.' — Odyssey 23

I had replaced my things with a pair of pants and stockings left behind by the grandfather. He was thinner than I, so I could not button the pants completely, but rather held them up via a pair of red suspenders. I felt quite foolish but there was no helping it until my own pants were dry. The grandfather had a sort of study or library off the kitchen. I lighted a candle, after making certain the draperies were closed tight, and looked over the books on his shelves. When I handled the draperies, a heavy aroma of pipe tobacco was released into the study. In addition to being a pipe smoker, apparently the grandfather was multitongued. There were books in German and French, and even a book of verse in Polish. I picked up a dusty old volume in my own tongue, a collection of folktales about Ulas Ulasovich and his whimsical wanderings. I flipped at random to a tale titled "Ulas in the Land of the Polar Bear King." It was a Ulas tale I had not heard. Like everyone, I was familiar with "Ulas in the Land of the Giants" and "Ulas in the Land of the Dancing Light" and "Ulas in the Land of the Mountain Witch." I read a couple of pages about the Polar Bear King but the poor light was making my eyes sting, so I returned the book to the shelf and continued browsing.

The shelves were on three walls. As I went around the corner, perusing the titles on the spines of the books, my foot kicked something that clattered heavily to the floor. In the candlelight I saw an enormous bow, and lying in a chair was a quiver of arrows. Grandfather must have been a hunter – though the bow looked like too much for an old man to handle. Then I recalled Nina and her gigantic rifle: perhaps the people of the far north are unusually fit and hardy. In my mind I nearly exchanged unusually for abnormally, or freakishly. I leaned the heavy bow against the chair.

Helena called me to supper and I blew out the candle. I went to the table in the kitchen where Nina and Helena had placed our slender repast, which consisted of a few strips of dried turkey, a spoonful or two of canned mincemeat, and a half coffeecup of warm cider. Though small, it was the most hospitable feast Nina could provide and I appreciated it very much. I thanked her and made over the meal, as did Helena, but I sensed the girl was embarrassed that she had so little to offer. When we were nearly finished, her eyes brightened as if she suddenly recalled something. Nina went to a cabinet, dug through it a moment, then produced a large ceramic jar. She brought it to the table and removed its stubborn lid with the aid of a knife. Instantly the smell of vodka rose above the plates, which had been picked clean. Nina filled everyone's cup. I was not sure it was proper for such a young girl to drink but surely her experiences had promoted her to the status of adult.

We toasted each other and drank the vodka, which was well aged and strong. My fingers and toes were still slightly numb from the cold and I thought the vodka might just finish warming them all the way. I poured the second round and we drank again. I could feel the blood rise to my cheeks. Helena and Yadnina were truly aglow.

Nina told us her grandfather had made the drink long ago for a special celebration that for some reason never took place. She could not retrieve from her childish memory what the event was supposed to be and her failed recollection appeared to bother her. I could imagine why: Her family was gone and all that remained of them was her memory; if that were to vanish as well she would be left nothing.

I changed the subject to brighten her mood. "Your grandfather must have been –" I immediately regretted my choice of tense. " – a bow hunter."

Nina looked puzzled, maybe afraid she had forgotten that detail too.

"The bow and arrows in the other room," I said, helping her and motioning toward the study.

She shook her head and said that the man upstairs had them when he arrived.